


Mountain of Glass

by irlhawke



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Battle of Five Armies, Blood, Homophobia, Internalized Misogyny, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Non-Graphic Violence, War, mild Self-harm, some blood, some unnamed OCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-29 20:51:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlhawke/pseuds/irlhawke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thinking about things that should not exist, feelings you should not feel, usually make them nothing but more real. Thorin had realized this at a very young age, when he had asked his mother why he thought differently from his brother and all his other friends. She had said, he remembered quite distinctly, that he should not even think about such matters. They could grow larger than necessary in ones mind, until one day you could not ignore those thoughts and feelings any longer.</p><p>Thorin hides behind a shield of family honor and a mask of hardened glass, hiding everything which he wishes he could show, showing nothing of who he truly is and aspire to be. But some things always come back to haunt us in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pride [prīd]  
> noun  
> \- a feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one's own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired : _the team was bursting with pride after recording a sensational victory | a woman who takes great pride in her appearance._  
>  • the consciousness of one's own dignity : _he swallowed his pride and asked for help._  
>  • the quality of having an excessively high opinion of oneself or one's importance : _the sin of pride._  
>  • a person or thing that is the object or source of a feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction : _the prince is the pride of our country._  
>  • poetic/literary the best state or condition of something; the prime : _in the pride of youth._

It had been a warm summers day, when Thorin had realized. He had been nothing but a dwarfling then, always playing with his siblings any chance he could manage to sneak away from the duties his father and grandfather, the King of Erebor, so often handed to him. This day as well, had been spent by the Running River, his sister Dis with her skirts tied up around her waist and his brother Frerin with boots forgotten somewhere along the way, both with water to their knees, laughing at how their toes sank into the clay at the river floor. Thorin too, had joined them in their games, his blue, embroidered tunic flung over the thick branch of a small tree by the edge of the bank, not to be spoiled by the brown water of the river. He had been there without permission of course, as he always was when being outside the large gates of Erebor on a day like this. But the words of his father about strange Men and Elves down the river, had not scared him from joining his brother and sister, not this day and not the days before. 

As they had been standing there - Frerin showering them with water and Thorin laughing as their sister became more and more soaked, dress and all - rafts of barrels carrying Men of the River had passed them by, grinning at the young dwarves occupying the long river. Their father, Thrain, had warned all his children about the river people, saying that though they were great and strong, the hearts of Men were nothing you could trust, especially not when being without proper protection, being Princes and Princesses of Erebor. Thorin had chosen to ignore all of this, and as he had looked up to watch the raft float by, he had been struck by confusion as to why his father would say such a thing about a people he hardly spoke to or invited to his halls. A people that clearly seemed to be a smiling lot, pipes in their mouthes and hands waving at the children. 

To Thorin, the promise and freedom of those same Men, had always been something he wished he had himself. Every day was a struggle to him, he had chores and duties to perform while his brother and sister where put through hard training and never got the chance to be only children like the rest of their friends, unless they snuck off like this. The Men of the River were always smiling as they traveled down the stream, telling stories of old and merrily singing songs of Kings and Wizards. How he had wished he could be just as they were, free, floating down the Running River with not a care in the world of other duties than getting to their destination on time, or getting there at all. 

“Brother!” Frerin called, as the draft floated on down the stream, and Thorin's eyes were pulled from the cheerful Men, towards his siblings and their joining friends, dwarven boys and girls from the City of Dale and Erebor as well, whom had come running down the hills to join in their games. “Everyone has come to see us!” The enthusiasm in his younger brother's voice was a striking as the hot sun and Thorin could not help but smile as he decided to wade over to his siblings once again, since they had moved up the waterside when the rafts had floated by. 

It was then, amongst familiar faces and warm embraces, that Thorin had realized. He had been washed over by a wave of emotions he could not explain, his body tensed up and his toes clenching the soft clay beneath his feet. There were youngsters everywhere that he knew, young dwarf ladies with skirts folded up their waists, just as Dis had hers, boys doing the same with their trousers. But all Thorin could see was the slender waist of a boy in front of him, who had removed his tunic and thrown it by the water side. The boy was laughing with Frerin while his dark, ginger hair was being braided back by tiny little Dis, as for it not to dampen too much, revealing the most gorgeous face Thorin had ever seen in his young life, facial hair already sprung across the boy's strong jaw. That was when he realized. That was when Thorin knew. 

***  
2941 Quest to the Lonely Mountain 

“What are you sitting here, brooding about?” Balin asked as he stepped up next to his old friend, a bowl of soup in each hand and his rosemary pipe wedged between his lips. Somehow, he had still managed to both speak and grin. Thorin smiled up at him, always in awe at how this wonderful little dwarf could be so grand in himself, always with a smile to give and an ear to listen. 

“My childhood,” Thorin then answered bluntly and gladly accepted the bowl of Bombur's fine cooking, bringing it to his face to take a whiff of its content. “It always comes back to me at times like these.” 

Balin nodded in understanding, scratching his beard before seating himself straight on the ground by Thorin's side. He sighed as he had managed to make himself comfortable, smiling as he looked back to meet Thorin's eyes momentarily, before looking out over the river, which sliced the wood in half before them. 

“Times like these?” the slightly younger dwarf then asked, the water roaring not to far away, its noise calming Thorin's troubled mind even though to someone like Balin, the sound might be regarded as nothing but disturbance. “This quest of ours?” 

“No,” Thorin smiled back and gently stirred the soup with his spoon, not wanting it all to spill over his hands. “This place, all of you.” He paused and looked up to watch his nephews play with each other by the water side, splashing water as if they had nothing to lose going on this quest. Their distant cousin Ori was sitting close by, smiling fondly as he drew the younger two with his active, skilled hands against the paper he had brought, not seeming to mind getting wet where he sat. “I used to play like that as well, carefree and naïve, just as those two.” 

Balin followed the line of his gaze, chuckling with just as much fondness as could be seen in Ori's eyes as he saw the two youngsters with braids come undone and clothes dampening more and more with each splash of cold water. 

“We should have told them not to step into the water with their clothes on...” he then mumbled and Thorin could not hold back a smile. 

“No matter what we would have told them, Balin, they would have done so, nonetheless.” he chuckled before bringing a spoonful of the steaming hot soup to his lips, happy he had waited for a moment before eating, otherwise he would probably have scalded his tongue. “Let them have their fun. The woods will grow darker and their spirits will be dampened worse than their clothes are now. Where we are heading, there is no longer any children playing in the rivers. For now, they will smile and later on regret having to go to bed with wet clothes, which is a lesson enough out here.” 

“They aren't children anymore, Thorin,” Balin chuckled next to him, his soup still untouched as he looked up to meet Thorin's eyes. “But I suppose you're right. Let them have fun, yes, we should let them...” Balin then fell quiet and ate, watching the youngsters bathe with not a care in the world for grave matters such as dragons, death and the loss of laughter. He did not wish that upon them, just as he did not wish those things upon any member of their company, least of all Thorin, whom already carried such pain on his shoulders. “Tell me about it,” he then asked, hoping for a slightly brighter conversation this time. Thorin had been lost in thought again, which happened more often than usually, these days. “About the memory?” 

“There isn't much to tell,” Thorin lied and had another spoonful of soup, always fearing to bring up the past when he was not at all certain what it would do to him. “I remember bathing in the Running River, having friends whom I since then have never seen. I remember my sister and my brother, always so proper and well mannered.” He smiled at this and watched Fili and Kili again. They were coming up from the water now, gladly accepting the cloths they were handed by Bofur before they undressed to dry off in the sun. “We were carefree then, too.” 

“I suppose we all were,” Balin smiled and nodded, glad he could still remember the splendor of Erebor, the laughs heard from the city of Dale and the setting sun upon the mountainside. “And there is nothing wrong in remembering the good times, Thorin. You might have been naïve, but you were only a wee lad. Don't blame yourself for things you could not have prevented, old friend.” 

Thorin only smiled and nodded at this, before he resumed his eating of the still hot soup. They had walked for hours and getting enough food and rest before the continuation of their journey was essential to keep ones head up and eyes forward. Thorin and Balin both wondered what would meet them upon their return to the Lonely Mountain, what they would see as they set foot in their long lost kingdom where their lives had once been so different from what they were now. Thorin tried not to think about these things more than he had to, but his mind constantly wandered away to the green slopes and the shining city beneath the mountain side, its waving banners and laughing children, the sound of iron bells tolling in the wind to welcome him home. 

“You're thinking again?” Balin chuckled and pulled Thorin's empty bowl out of his hands before the dwarf could give any protest in the matter. “I will leave you to your thoughts then, but don't wander too deep in the lands of the past. I know how easily you get trapped in there.”

“I promise,” Thorin nodded, a bit of the worried wrinkle between his brows disappearing as he spoke. “Do tell the others to get a good rest and have a wash? We do not know when the next river or spring will cross our path. But Fili and Kili can mend the camp, they have had enough of water already.” 

“I am sure they will object.” Balin only smiled and walked off with their bowls to put the younger dwarves to work with the dishes, still puffing away on his pipe. 

Thorin watched the younger as he stepped over the uneven ground, not tripping even once as his feet were used to sticks and stones by now. He smiled and pulled his own pipe out from within his bag, which he had brought with him over to his sitting spot for the sole reason of being able to smoke, and lit it after carefully stuffing it full of pipe weed. The sweet taste filled his senses and he closed his eyes for a moment, a smile tugging away at the sides of his mouth as he heard the loud protests coming from his nephews about their assignment. He was sure they would come along and bring their complaints to him as well, it would not be long now. 

As he had thought, soon came the sounds of eager steps across the bank of the river and he heard Fili's voice loud and clear above the general chatter of the rest of the Company. 

“Thorin!” he called, braids still come undone from his games with his brother and only dressed in his undergarments as he was. “I demand you tell me why my brother and I have been assigned to the dishes while the rest get to have a bath? Why can you not give the chore to Mr Baggins? He seems not to have any wish to wash anyway?” 

As Thorin looked up, he saw that Kili too, was not far behind his older sibling, nodding in agreement to what the blonde one was saying but without voicing the matter himself. He had always carried a strong voice, Kili, but whenever his brother spoke, he always hunched back to listen and agree. Thorin knew his behavior very well. It clearly ran in the family.

“Isn't it obvious?” Thorin asked back, straightening his back as he met his nephew's annoyed gaze, grinning on the inside at how much of a stubborn child the dwarf still was. “You have already washed yourselves from what I can tell and there are dishes to be made. You might be my nephews but a part of this Company none the less, which means you do dishes if I say you do dishes, and you do not hand them to our burglar as an easy way out. If you can persuade the Wizard to do it for you, by all means do so. But leave the hobbit alone. He might not look it, but he is just as dirty as the rest of us. He might enjoy his privacy more than us as well, give him time and let him wash off without the both of you asking him for favors.” 

Fili scoffed and looked more than a little disappointed. He had been holding up good, his oldest nephew, taking care of everything splendidly for at least half of the way and Thorin was proud. Fili might be a bit more childish than Thorin had been at his age, which really was not that hard to understand, but his nephew was now the pride of their house, the hope in which Thorin dared to rest his ambitions and dreams. Fili would grow up to be a fine king under the Mountain one day. Still, he knew that these boys would have to go through a lot more than doing some dishes before this quest was over, before the young dwarves could even consider giving orders themselves, and they might as well get used to the hard work. 

“If we finish up quickly,” Kili now asked, stepping up next to his older brother with a slight grin on his lips. “Can we go and join the others then?” 

“Yes,” Thorin answered plainly and rejoiced for their sake, on the inside, as he saw both the young dwarves' eyes shine brighter at once. “If you do a good job at it, of course you can use your free time for anything you may want.” 

“Thank you uncle!” the both of them exclaimed in union and were gone before Thorin had time to even react to their words. He chuckled and drew in a long breath of smoke as he watched the youngsters collecting dishes and behaving like proper dwarves, bowing and thanking the others for their trouble. They were done with washing up even before the other dwarves had all been undressed and soon joined the company of the ten in the cold river water. Thorin as well thought about cleaning off, but refrained from doing so. For him, it wasn't quite safe, not around some of the others at least.

***

2766, The Lonely Mountain, Erebor

“You have been well fed, I imagine?” inquired his father and Thorin looked up from the book he had been holding. He had been spending time in the woods with his younger brother, and even though accompanied by guards, managed to have a lovely time. They had been away for three days, a vacation of sorts from their duties and even though their grandfather Thror had not been pleased, their father had let them do so without fuss. 

“Yes, Father.” the young dwarf prince immediately nodded and closed the book carefully, without more sound than the wind makes thought the trees. He had always loved the sound of book pages folding and closing. “Did Frerin tell you we caught a wild boar? He was very proud of it.” 

“He did,” Thrain chuckled and reached out to let a warm hand rest on the shoulder of his son's new, blue tunic. “And he was very enthusiastic indeed. I will go and have a look at it later on, before they skin it.” 

“He would like that.” Thorin smiled and got up from the comfortable seat he had been occupying next to the crackling fire. As much as he enjoyed the woods and the cold streams running through them, he always felt right at home as he was able to warm his chilled feet next to a fireplace like this one. His father kept his hand gently rested on Thorin's shoulder as they started walking through the room and into the vast hall beyond its doors, he did not let go until they had picked up a consistent pace and Thorin had straightened his back again. He must have kept it hunched without noticing it, probably from the cold still lurking in his bones. 

“Did you catch anything yourself?” the older now asked and their boots echoed against the stone floors, giving Thorin the feeling that he was indeed much smaller than he thought, in the great halls of his ancestors. Only a small prince in comparison to the likes of his father and the Kings of old. His father was merely asking to make small talk, he wasn't particularity interested in whether Thorin enjoyed hunting or not, whether he had caught anything or not, all he was interested in was what was to become of him later on in life. It was important of course that Thorin as a dwarf could hunt and fend for himself in the wild, but to Thrain there seemed not be much need of such things, not now that the mere age of twenty at least. 

“Some rabbits,” Thorin smiled, knowing that his brother was a much better shot, even though he was hardly older than fourteen and his beard was far from thick across his jaw. “And a ptarmigan. It was a beauty, I can assure you, but we ate it the fist night.” 

“Ah.” was the only thing his father responded, Thorin now convinced he had not heard a word. He did not much mind, however, he was used to these kind of talks by now. Instead of speaking any further about the three days of sheer happiness that the oldest of Thrain's three children had had, they walked up the first broad stone staircase they arrived at and Thorin's mind wandered back to the woods, where the sun shown through the thick branches and made the forest floor spring to life with green light.

“You do understand,” Thrain then suddenly started, stopping in front of the large doors which would take them into Thror's chambers. “That I am very proud of you, my son, and everything you strive to be. When I was your age, I was more like your brother, I would rather have disobeyed the orders of my king if that meant I could do whatever I pleased, than allow myself to be brought back home sooner than I had been promised. You, my oldest, will make a fine king under the Mountain someday.” 

Thorin only nodded and gave a soft smile at this. As soon as his father seemed pleased with his reaction and turned to open the doors, the smile vanished from the young prince's still youthful face and he swallowed drily. If only his father knew his deepest secrets. Thorin was sure there would then be no more talk of him being the pride of the family or becoming a wonderful king. No more songs would be sung or tales told of Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. He would be forgotten with shame and anger, for someone else, more honorable to take his place. 

Through out the meal with his father, his grandfather and their closest friends, not here counting the rest of the royal family, Thorin smiled politely and honored his grandfather with listening to his stories, marveling at his conquests – even though he had heard it all before – and laughing as the elder dwarves around the table told the same old jokes they had done for decades. He put aside his own selfish thoughts, as he always did in the presence of his King and ate and drank together with the others as if he was truly one of them. He spoke as if he was the pride his grandfather had waited so many years for to receive, the promise that no matter what happened to the King under the Mountain, Thror's line would never perish, never wither, always remain strong and prosper. 

But as the meal was ending, after what seemed like half a day, Thorin left for his chambers with a growing ache in his chest and a worried wrinkle between his brows. He did not address the worry in his mind, neither did he speak about it to anyone, instead he seated himself on his large bed, behind his closed doors, watching himself in a large mirror as he corrected his braided beard and thought nothing more of it. 

Thinking about things that should not exist, feelings you should not feel, usually make them nothing but more real. Thorin had realized this at a very young age, when he had asked his mother why he thought differently from his brother and all his other friends. She had said, he remembered quite distinctly, that he should not even think about such matters. They could grow larger than necessary in ones mind, until one day you could not ignore those thoughts and feelings any longer.

“My Prince, Thorin?” 

There was a soft knock on the door before it opened and the young dwarf stood up to welcome his servant in, smiling slightly at the familiar sight of the other's dark blonde hair and his beard that almost reached down to his knees. The servant bowed down deeply before his future king but had a spark of amusement in his eyes as he did so, knowing what would happen next, all too well. 

“How many times must I tell you not to bow to me every time you step into my chambers?” Thorin grinned and met the shorter dwarf's bright eyes as he spoke. “You come in here every day, my friend, you take care of my clothes, my hair, even my bed, and yet you treat me as if I am holy? We both know I am no such thing,” 

“I can assure you, Prince Thorin, if your father, bless his beard and may it grow ever long, could hear you now, he would have been mighty disappointed in his son for the lack of royalty in your private manners.” the other responded and quickly stepped over to Thorin's linen cupboard to fetch him some fresh clothes, once more. He had done so before dinner as well. Thorin only laughed at his words, knowing full well they were true, but seeing as he had worse things to worry about his father finding out, this did not matter much to him. 

“What if I told you I am tired of this constant bowing?” he then objected and seated himself on the bed once again, sinking down into the soft pelts which covered it. “You come in here and sweep my floor clean with your beard, old friend. That is, if I may say so, very disrespectful of me to let happen to such a fine beard as yours. From now on, be sure never to bow that low to me again, for the sake of your honor, and the honor of your magnificent beard.” Thorin heard a scoff of a laughter from the other and was amused that he had broken through the other's armor as quickly as he had. 

“You have my word, your Majesty.” then came the answer. 

The reason for the second change of clothing – more close to the fifth change of the day – was that his mother had requested his company, together with his two siblings, to tell her of their time spent in the woods and for her only daughter to sit quietly and listen. Thorin never much liked the company of his mother in these moments or settings, as he knew his sister was always forced into dresses she did not like and would be kept silent by their mother through the entire sitting. Their mother was a stern woman, though loving like most, and she held great pride in her boys; their skill with the sword and bow and their way to court and entertain with tales of their adventures. Their sister had never been the daughter their mother had hoped for and was therefore silenced or kept as a doll in the background, dressed up to her teeth and always miserable. 

Thorin sighed and smiled a little, looking down at his already rough hands in order to collect his thoughts, thinking about the feel of a bowstring between his fingertips and an arrow resting above. Oh how his sister would enjoy hunting when she grew older, how she would beg to come with the both of them into the woods and shoot herself a boar or two. She was still all too young for things like that, but he knew their father had already brought her to the banks of the water, to shoot hoops and train her to become a true fighter yet. 

“Have you been to my sister's yet?” Thorin asked as he was brought back to reality when his friend yanked unkindly at his hair, to be able to pull it back and shape it better this time than hours before, when he'd had to pull twigs and leaves out of it as if Thorin had been eaten by a tree and then been spat back out again. “I know she has her own servant, but she adores you.” 

“I have,” the other smiled fondly and his fingers now worked quickly against Thorin's scalp, sending shivers down the prince's spine until he closed his eyes in bliss. “She sends her love and hopes you brought her something home from your trip? You can tell her if you be the one to fetch her from her room on the way?” 

“Yes,” Thorin smiled and re-opened his eyes to look over towards the small box he kept at the end of his bed. He had, as earlier stated, managed to shoot a couple of rabbits, at which he had realized he had orphaned three little balls of soft fur. He had quickly decided to bring them back home to his sister, who possessed a love for animals so deep that he was sure she would have rather lived with a bunch of horses than dwarves for company. “Let us hurry then?” 

He was unsure whether his sister's happiness was mostly because of her brother's return or because of the new pets she had received. No matter which was the true reason, her mood was much more cheerful than usual and it lasted more than half of their sitting with their mother, before she became more and more grumpy from not getting to ask her brothers herself about their adventures in the forest. Thorin promised her, as their mother had gone with Frerin to look at the boar he had shot, that he would tell her anything she wanted to know as soon as they were back in her room. She trusted him to keep that promise. Her smile was now genuine again and her small hands clasped his larger one as hard as she could as she told him about what she and their father had done while her brothers had been away. 

As he watched her sparkling eyes and heard her eager voice, he thought of the expectations she carried on her small shoulders. The expectations every little lady would carry if born into the royal line of Durin, with dresses, elegant hair styles and spotless knowledge of history, culture, instruments and how to share in a conversation without taking up too much time or space compared to her male company. Her choices would be regarded as good or bad, not because of her own needs and wants, but because of what would be good and bad for the family, the kingdom and ultimately, the reputation of their entire kin. Still, this little girl, with her dark brown locks of hair put up in thick braids and her dress spotless no matter how much she ran about, would always be seen as something else than what her mother wanted. Dis would never grow up to be the woman her mother would be proud of. The thought was saddening and made his smile fade slightly as he thought. Not the thought of Dis being a disappointment, but that their mother could not see the pure beauty in her own daughter when she was just being herself. Though at least, his baby sister would have their father's constant love and devotion, as well as her brothers'. Thorin on the other hand, Thorin was different from her. 

He sighed and smiled back down at her as the little Princess of Erebor complained about her long, blue skirts and the silly jewels in her hair. She would always be loved for her strength of character and her will of steel, she was stubborn as any lad Thorin had ever met and stronger than most boys her age. If she could have become a queen, she would have been known far and wide, more than any future husband, of that he was sure. But this did not make her lose the pride that was set on her fair head, nor would it break her down through time and create a weak being without pride in herself or bestowed upon her by her people. She was the good sort, the accepted kind of different. Her difference made her unique and special, an asset, as his father would have said. If you differed in the way Thorin did, you would have no place amongst your own kin if it was to come to light. He knew that. 

Ever since that day in the sunshine by the river, he had known that he was different from everyone else. He didn't have to ask anyone about this. It was a knowledge that had always been there to nag at the back of his mind, a knowledge that had been taught to all dwarflings alike since before they could speak themselves. It was the knowledge of love and commitment, of mothers and fathers and families and siblings. A knowledge rooted deep in their minds, Thorin's as well, about what was expected of you, what you should strive for, live for. 

For the royal line of Durin, heirs were more important than anything else. You did not create a family only for yourself, but you paid your parents the greatest of respects if you delivered them heirs, new little joys and prides of the family that would be put on pedestals and shown to the kingdom for all to see. Thorin had known this since before his brother was born, from when his mother had told him stories of old about princes rescuing beautiful ladies from fire breathing dragons and mountain trolls. Through all those nights, when the young boy had been lying in bed, unable to sleep, he had wondered why he himself could never be rescued, why there had to be a princess in distress, not a prince. As of now, those thoughts returned to him more than during sleepless nights, but of course, he did not ever mention them. If his family was to find out what he was, he did not know what would become of him, or the pride they had invested in him and his future. 

Like so many times before, his thoughts trailed off, derailed and left him shuddering in the dark. He would never be able to be like his sister, strong and independent without a care in the world what her mother thought of her. He would never be strong, like her. 

***  
2941 Quest to the Lonely Mountain 

Thorin rested his aching back against the cold, uneven ground and grinned in the dusk as he heard his nephews complain about hard roots sticking into their backs. They had not yet gotten used to sleeping out in the open, at least not for night after night, for week after week. They might have gone for hunting trips, but never had they been forced to sleep like this. A little harsh ground might do them good, young and naïve as they were, but he could not help feeling sorry for them as he heard them in pain. If he had been able to, he would have gotten a roaring fire going and given them beds covered in pelts and feathery pillows. 

Thorin himself remembered the time before their birth, as he had walked this distance with families and friends, the sick and the children following him the best they could. He had carried his sister on his back or kept her close by his side, not daring to let anyone take her into their care. She was his responsibility, he remembered thinking, which was a thought that had stayed with him until this day, even though he knew she could take better care of herself than he could. His brother had been there too, strong and brave by his side, always with a smile to share, always ready to help. But it had not lasted long. 

He turned his face away from the small fire and the rest of his company, breathing in the chilled evening air though nose and mouth as he closed his eyes. His mind was drifting, but not towards sleep. Memories of blazing fire and screaming voices, crying children and trees like torches in the sky. Those were the thoughts that always came to him as evening came and he lay down to sleep. After all this time, those were his only nightmares, the things that kept him from sleeping when truly needed to. 

“Excuse me...” came a small voice suddenly from above his head and Thorin looked up to see the Hobbit, bag and blanket in hand and hair on end, looking down at him with wrinkled eyebrows. 

“Yes?” Thorin answered back, his voice strong even through his whisper. 

“Bombur snores an awful lot...” Bilbo explained and scratched his neck, in which he dropped both bag and blanket by his feet and hurriedly bent to pull them up again. This meant he did not get to his point, a point which Thorin believed he had already figured out judging by the bundle of things the Hobbit had brought from the other side of the fire, yet, he decided not to ask and embarrass the small creature any further. 

“You cannot hold it against him,” Thorin nodded instead and sat up slowly, waiting for the Hobbit to pick up the rest of his things before reaching to get his own pipe, filling it as he watched the other. “It runs in the family, I believe.” 

“Yes well,” Bilbo nodded and spoke as if he had hardly been listening, too keen on getting his point across to take notice of Thorin's smalltalk. “I was thinking, if it would be alright, if it is not alright I will of course completely understand, however, if it is possible at all, seeing as there is a lot of room still left on this side of the fire, maybe, only maybe, if it is not to much trouble could I perhaps put down my things and... sleep here? I do not snore, I assure you and I am in fact very still when I sleep, hardly move at all, my sheets are never wrinkled in the morning.” 

As the Hobbit fell silent, Thorin blinked slowly and had to truly strain himself from not letting his eyes widen in shock. How a little Hobbit like Bilbo Baggins had that much air in his lungs, Thorin had never been able to understand. In fact, as a leader he knew it was good to be able to speak for a long time on one breath, but this one must take the price. Too bad Hobbits did not need leaders in wars. They could have used Mr Baggins's lungs for speeches. As it was, Thorin now drew in a deep breath of smoke and then blew it out into a soft smoke ring, watching it sail away above his sleeping comrades, laughing inwardly as he saw Fili and Kili pointing at it a couple of dwarves away. So much for the children resting enough for tomorrow. 

“Do not worry, Mr Baggins, there is more than enough room here for us not to even notice each other during the night, I am sure.” he then assured and gestured with a free hand at the empty spot next to him, which was as large as three and a half dwarves, possibly two dwarves and a Bombur. “Get as comfortable as you can.” 

“That's very kind, thank you.” Bilbo nodded and even gave a quick smile. He then kneeled by Thorin's side, but half a dwarf away in distance Thorin would say, and started flattering the dirt with his hands as if that would help against the hard ground. “I was unsure whether I would have a chance to switch places after all.” 

“And why is that?” Thorin inquired calmly. He had not been sleepy, after all. There was no need for him to lie there without sleep, as long as he did not wake anyone else from speaking out to loudly. He did not have to worry about the Hobbit it seemed. Bilbo always whispered when others were asleep, he must have been raised by someone with very much respect for sleeping folk. 

“Well,” the little one now sighed and crawled down into his blanket next to him as he spoke. It took him a good long while before he felt at all comfortable at his new sleeping place but anything seemed to him to be better than sleeping next to poor Bombur. “I was under the impression there was a certain order to follow? I always thought of dwarves as being disoriented, messy and you have things everywhere, but there is order to much you do, I have come to realize.”

Thorin remained quiet for a while, smoking, as he thought of what the Hobbit had just said. It was true, that his friends might seem less tidy than what Bilbo was used to, but to have those kind of prejudiced thoughts about folk he had never met before? That, to Thorin, said more about the Hobbit than the dwarves. He knew however, that not only Hobbits held those thoughts and ideas of Dwarves as a folk in their minds, which had always made his life harder than it had to have been. To put someone into a certain box because of what they were born to be, what family they ended up in or what partner in life they had, was something Thorin had had to learn himself not to do, mostly because he himself was not the stereotypical dwarf. He preferred not to be seen that way, just as he preferred others not to see his kin that way either. It made it hard for those that were like Thorin to be themselves, even amongst their own, when there was always the reputation of kin and family to defend. 

“Messy you say?” he now commented and let his eyes wander back over the rest of the company, sleeping in neat rows with packs at their heads and all dishes washed and cleaned by the fire. Bilbo had followed his gaze and could not hide his gasp as he must have realized what he had actually said, because he quickly spoke again. 

“I meant no disrespect,” he said and sounded more like a worried, scared child than and actual grown up. “I never thought I would get the... privilege to meet a Dwarf in my life. Things like those are only what you think before meeting the folk you've heard about, it doesn't have to mean it is the actual truth. I know dwarves are proud and noble and strong, I have always know that as well!”

Half of what the Hobbit was saying did not quite make sense to Thorin at this hour, and since the smaller was rambling, it did not work well for him at all.

“Do you think me prideful?” he decided to ask, close to interrupting Bilbo and the Hobbit stopped immediately, hardly breathing. Thorin could see clearly how the other was thinking very hard about what he had said, if he had really called the leader of their company prideful or not. After a moment and a half, Bilbo finally drew a small, yet deep breath before speaking up again, sounding weaker than before. 

“I did not say that?” 

“You did not, not directly.” Thorin nodded and leaned back down against his own pack, using it as support for his back instead of lying down completely. “But now, you avoided to answer my question?” 

“I only said, in general...” Bilbo began again, obviously not intending to answer the question this time either. “That I thought, have always been told more like it, that dwarves are full of pride and...” 

“Mr Baggins,”

“Yes? I'm sorry,” the Hobbit excused himself and his eyes were averted. Thorin waited for the explanation but it did not come until he had almost finished his pipe completely. “If not prideful, and I mean this with utmost respect because I do respect you, Thorin, and pride not being something negative in this sense, what is this quest all about? If not because of pride... and maybe the gold?” 

Thorin thought of this for a moment, contemplating the answer as he knew he himself had no pride to speak of. It had died with his grandfather and father, a long time ago. He had never held any significant pride in himself over who he was, nor had he ever acknowledged the pride they had stored in him. But pride was indeed a large part of what most Dwarves lives were about, the pride in oneself and in one's family and kin. Bilbo was not wrong about that. 

“I am on a quest to regain the lost honor of my people, as well as the gold that comes with it.” he finally stated and proceeded to empty his still hot pipe onto the ground next to where he would keep his head. That way, the scent of the pipe weed would keep him company during his hours of sleep. “That is not about pride, I am not being prideful in my sense of understanding what I need to do? I would call it ambition, Mr Baggins. Ambition is what drives me, honor is my goal. Not honor for me, but for my kin. So that my heirs and theirs after will always have a place to call home and the honor that comes with being Dwarves of Erebor.”

“Then I will help you,” Bilbo almost whispered. It seemed he had been taken aback by Thorin's words somehow. They must have hit him straight in his heart, where they all knew thoughts and love for his own home under the Hill lay buried. In silence, Thorin secretly wished for their adventure to be kind to the little Hobbit, so that he would one day as well, get to come home again. “For both the honor of your kin and their children, but also for all these fine dwarves I have now had the utmost pleasure of getting to know. Your ancestors will be proud of you for what will happen here, Thorin, I am sure of that.” 

“You have already promised us your services, little one,” Thorin chuckled, even if those last words that struck him painfully in the gut. His ancestors would rather have seen him die in the Battle of Azanulbizar, instead of his brother. Frerin would have made a better king. Of him, they would have been proud. “You do not need to assure me of your good intent. I already trust you with my life, that you know?” 

“I do...” 

“Then sleep calmly and do not worry about my pride or honor. You will be of no help if we have to carry you half the way, from your lack of sleep?” he nodded slightly. “You have your own person to worry about, not only us.” At that, he clearly stated the conversation over. He had grown tired from thoughts of his past trying to re-enter his mind and he decided it would be best to try and sleep again. The Hobbit only nodded and did as he was told without fuss. Hobbits were less stubborn than dwarves, it seemed.


	2. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> family [ˈfam(ə)lē]  
> noun ( pl. -lies)  
> \- [treated as sing. or pl. ] a group consisting of parents and children living together in a household.  
> • a group of people related to one another by blood or marriage : _friends and family can provide support._  
>  • the children of a person or couple : _she has the sole responsibility for a large family._  
>  • a person or people related to one and so to be treated with a special loyalty or intimacy : _I could not turn him away, for he was family._

2769 City of Dale

The large golden bells of Dale rang high and bright through the crisp morning air and as the sun was now peeking up above the beautiful houses, rose petals fell through the air. It was a glorious morning indeed, one which the kingdom of Erebor had not seen for weeks, which meant the bride and groom were most happy about the weather indeed. People had flooded the streets and the town square to cheer on the newly wedded couple, compliment the bride on her stunning dress and whisper about the handsome dwarf she had managed to obtain with her charming personality. 

Thorin was in the wedding procession, as he was acquainted with both the groom and the bride. He was dressed in his finest, or so it seemed, but he knew he had robes more delicately sown and richer in jewels and gold than these, but finely dressed he was nonetheless. There was a smile on his face, a genuine one, as he too applauded just as the others. Rose petals had fallen to rest in his hair by now and he had already plucked three of them out of the braid in his beard. He could just barely see the happy couple from where he walked, three rows behind them, both Men of Dale and Dwarves of Erebor in between them, but he could see clearly that petals had stuck to them both as well, more than to anyone else. It had been by Thorin's own choice that he had decided to walk where he was. If it had been up to others, he would have walked right behind the couple together with his smiling siblings, but he couldn't. Purely for selfish reasons. Like always. 

Thorin had known the young woman since they were mere dwarflings really, she had been beautiful back then too and crushed his brother's heart among others, or so he had heard. Thorin himself had never, of course, lost himself in her smile or laughter, but he could understand what they all saw in her. After all, it was exactly what he had always seen in her newly wedded husband. 

If he straightened his back as much as he possibly could and at the same time tilted his head to the left, in order to see above the head of his brother and still not be covered by Girion of Dale, he could just catch a glimpse of dark red braids of hair and dark eyes filled with all the happiness of the world. There was a triple knot somewhere deep within Thorin's heart, and as he watched the other dwarf, the knot drew tighter and he had to avert his eyes. This was a happy day, especially for the couple, no matter their youth. They should all be happy for them, Thorin knew this. 

“Brother,” his sister suddenly smiled from his side and he did not have much time to wonder how and when she had gotten there, before she spoke again. “Doesn't she look beautiful?” Thorin nodded at this, even though it had not been her his eyes had been glued too throughout the entire ceremony. He could never tell Dis that though, and was left smiling for hours with his heart breaking painfully against his ribcage instead.

“Are you looking forward to dressing up like that one day as well?” he then asked and clasped her still small and soft hand in his own rough one. She was beaming like the sun now, his lovely sister, even though she had been forced into a blue dress that would match his robes. She now shook her head, however, and tried to look over at the couple again. As she did not seen anything, considering the fact that she was only still a child of nine years not reaching much higher than his waist, Thorin quickly placed his hands underneath her thin arms and pulled her up to sit on his strong shoulders. She laughed like only she could, hands taking a firm hold on one thick braid at each side of his face to not fall off. He felt like a horse. “Why don't you want to look like that then, little sister?” he then continued their conversation as her laughter died of softly. 

“Because I don't like dresses!” the girl giggled and bent over his head to see his face, it scared him at first to have her do that, he had not carried her like this for a while and he almost lost his footing, but then laughed and shook his head. 

“Then what will you wear when you grow up?” 

The girl did not answer immediately. Either she was thinking, or she was catching petals with her right hand because she had let that braid go. He could feel the jerking of her body as she moved above him and he could do nothing but grin. Her skirts were jumbled by his neck, pressing awkwardly against his head and when she moved around it did not get any better. If only she had been allowed to wear pants. Why there was such a strict code to what tiny girls like herself were allowed to wear, he had no idea. They would be taught to fight sooner or later, wouldn't they? Why treat them like something completely different from the boys? 

“I am going to wear pants and tunics and boots like you and Frerin!” she then spoke and grabbed his right side braid again. He smiled, knowing that probably would not be as easy for her as they both could wish. He would be on her side though. If he had any say in the matter, of course she should get to wear pants if she wished. “And I will go with you and him to the woods and we will shoot boars and stags and I will be better than both of you!”

“You seem to be having it all figured out already?” he chuckled and gave her leg a soft pat where he had been holding onto her by the ankle.

“Of course I have!” she laughed brightly and Thorin could see a woman, half a body taller than him, turn to look with fond eyes at the sunshine he was carrying. “You can never decide on anything in time, brother, can you? I have to be your advisor and Frerin can be your guard. You will need my advice when you are King under the Mountain, you know that as well as I do.” 

“I do know that.” he had to smile in response and ignored the woman who was now constantly turning to look at them. He had been wondering why at first, hoping that it was not because of something prejudice, because the people of Dale had always seemed very much without those kind of feelings towards his kin. Thorin had always felt proud to walk down these streets, knowing that his family was regarded as grand amongst the Men around him. In fact, those moments had been the only ones where he had been filled with pride at all. He would have hated for that feeling and sense of belonging to go away because of a woman in a wedding procession. Just as he had made the decision to ignore her however, he had seen that her dress was cut differently from the women walking next to her; hiding a swelling stomach, he had guessed. Which would of course explain her fond glances at his sister. A realization that made him feel slightly foolish in his worries. The fact that she was expecting a child should not have bothered him though, in fact, he should have rejoiced and given her a large smile. She obviously thought of Dis as being his daughter, since he knew how hard it was for folk like her to realize he was not even considered fully grown yet. A beard, on Men, did not grow until later in life, after all. But it did not make him smile, and it did not make him confident in himself and his relationship with his sister. Quite the opposite. 

“Dis,” he smiled gently and grabbed her as carefully as he could, before lifting her over his head again and placing her firmly back on the ground. “My shoulders are tired, you've grown too big to be carried by any other than perhaps Father.” As she frowned at this, he reached down and gave her nose a gentle tap before continuing. “And I am heading back home anyway, you wanted to stay for the feast?” 

“Are you feeling ill?” she asked immediately, a small wrinkled appearing between her thick eyebrows. 

“Why do you ask that?” he chuckled back, even though he knew his smile must look slightly forced. He was hoping she would not notice. Chances were, she already had. 

“You always stay for feasts. And you have wrinkles.” As she spoke, she gestured between her own brows to show him what she meant. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“I am quite alright, I just have things to do, you know that.” 

She nodded but seemed less convinced than he would have hoped. She did not argue, though, because she knew she would probably fail at getting him to tell her anything anyway. He was glad at the moment, that she had been brought up the way she had. It meant there would be no more questions as long as he truly told her not to. He felt bad for thinking such things, however, because he knew she would probably keep worrying about him until she was absolutely sure he was feeling well again. 

“You know what?” he hurried to smile and took her quickly by the hand as the procession started moving again. They had stopped while he was setting her down, but he was not quite sure why. “Why don't you go and see if Frerin can take you to the feast and let you sit with his friends? I know you like them, do you not?” 

She nodded slowly and then smiled gently at his suggestion, probably understanding that smiling would make him feel at least better. The procession had once again stopped and Thorin now tried to see what was going on, which was hard considering all the tall people in front of him. His heart skipped a beat painfully as soon as someone moved out of the way. He should never have looked. Everyone was clapping their hands. He wanted to run. Then his sister got up to stand on her toes and pulled him down by his tunic, smiling as she patted his cheeks gently with soft fingers and kissed his nose. 

“Come and read to me tonight?” she asked and of course he agreed, her soft display of affection wrapping itself around his heart like a bandage. Satisfied with his nod, she smiled and ran off towards their brother before the mass of people started moving again. By then, Thorin was already heading back up the street with his head lowered and hood up. 

There really should be no need for him to be upset. He knew these feelings. He had been fighting for so long against even acknowledging them that now they had grown grey and harsh in his chest. His mother might have been wrong when she said that thinking more of it would make it worse. He had tried not to think at all, tried his hardest to deny his own feelings, and look where that had gotten him. He was on his knees in the dark, one hand on the ground and the other clutching the tunic across his chest, his body convulsing as if from vomiting, but his stomach was empty and there was nothing to regurgitate. He could hardly breath and salty tears he couldn't stop or control spilled from his eyes, dripping down heavily on the stone beneath him. 

He had taken his refuge to the Northern side of the Mountain, the slopes were not as heavily guarded here, especially if you knew where to go. He had crawled in between two large stones, boulders they were, and behind them was a small cavity that no one but him knew of. He had kept it secret ever since he had found it many years earlier, and it now worked as the only safe place where he could truly let his feelings show. He never enjoyed the moments when he knew they were coming, when he knew he was soon going to be standing there, hands against the dirty stones and face buried in darkness and desperate despair. He hater himself and his foolish mind in those moments, hated how he broke down because of the simplest things, someone looking at him funny, someone asking him silly questions, someone smiling brightly at him, someone asking too much of him without even knowing him first. 

He coughed and shook his head, the thick braids in his hair falling from his shoulders to land in the damp soil covering the stone floor, his tears dripping quickly off of his skin. He couldn't do this anymore, this constant hiding, the constant pain in his chest growing stronger and stronger for each day, each look, each thought that passed.

He knew very well he could never be like that woman he had seen earlier. That he could never marry, never have a child. He, Thorin, Crown Prince of Erebor, would never be able to uphold the simplest of traditions without completely lying to himself, without breaking apart in the end with no way out but darkness. He would never meet someone worthy enough to be his, not in the eyes of his kin, that was for sure. The thought of what his father would say, what his grandfather would do... the thought of the look on his mother's face if she was to know that her soon did not fancy any dwarf women, or any women at all for that matter, was so frightening that he could do nothing but tremble. He would disgrace the entire family, the royal line, he would be cast out and hated. No one would mind having him gone, not even his own siblings. They would be fed lie after lie or even the horrible truth and not even pity him as he was expelled from the kingdom. He had just been strange and disgusting when it all came down to it, hadn't he? He was sick, must be. There was no reason for him to want to bed dwarf men, other than his own foolish illness. But had he not done anything more than he had wished for it to just go away? Wake up one morning and realize he had a beautiful woman by his side and feel for her what he felt for the man who had just gotten married today. From today, the gap between them had not only widened, it was so broad an entire lifetime could be fitted nicely into the abyss. 

He cursed under breath as he regained the ability to breathe more properly again. The stone wall behind his back was cold as he leaned against it and closed his eyes, pushing it back into the hard rock, sharp pain rushing through his body, calming him down. His cheeks felt stiff from salty tears and his lips were cracked and dry. But he was alive still. 

As he kept his eyes closed he could hear a thrush pick at the shell of a snail somewhere above his head, the echo pounding against his eardrums mercilessly. Soon he had hidden his head in his arms, forehead resting against the damp fabric of his knees. 

“Be gone...” he whispered, knowing full well the bird might not hear him where he sat, whimpering like a mere lad that has lost his mother. “I want to be left alone. Be gone, you silly bird.” 

The picking sound had stopped and everything became so quiet he had to look up to be sure the world around him still existed. The silence was even more excruciating than the sound of the bird and all he could hear now was the pounding of his heart and the blood pumping through his system. He gripped a tight hold on his own hair and closed his eyes hard against his knees, the tears falling again but now he hardly knew why. Maybe it was because of the pain, maybe because of the hopeless feeling that was constantly growing in there next to his heart. 

The young dwarf he had seen marry today, was not someone whom he had spent a lot of time with. But that was mostly because of the feelings he so desperately wanted to hide. Had he not felt so deeply for the other, he would have been with him everyday, Thorin was sure. He was, by far, the most breathtaking creature he had ever laid his eyes on, and the most fun to be around. But Thorin knew the risks. Therefore he had not seen him as much as his brother had. The realization that he was about to be married, had made Thorin lock himself in his room for three days, blaming sickness to the nose and lungs, but he had let no doctors take a look at him – much to his father's annoyance. To attend the other's wedding was a given, he was a friend after all. To not show up would be to pay his wife the least respect of all, Thorin could not do that to her or the family they were about to create. Imagine, to feed a family when the Prince of Erebor himself had not even payed your wife the respect she deserved at your wedding? But he had been sitting there all the ceremony, heart splintering bit by bit, smiling widely with everyone else as his own body started trembling, handing his mother and brother pieces of fabric so that they could wipe their happy tears. All the while as he himself was holding all his tears back, afraid of what they might make him do if he let them out. 

The happy couple had looked perfect in their brightly colored clothes and flowers in their hair. She had been laughing, he had been crying, she had been drying his tears, he had kissed her... Kissed her. 

Thorin flew forward with a cough, eyes wide open, completely sure he would really throw up this time, but there was nothing. He could not care anymore about his clothes or his hurting body as he fell to the hard floor of the cave, cheek hitting the hard stone painfully, scarping the skin beneath his eye. His tears were still falling as he curled his back and hid his face within the comfort of his arms. 

It had never been this bad before.

***

2941 Quest to the Lonely Mountain 

Thorin was soaked to the bone and terrified as he pulled at the hems of his youngest nephew's clothing, head completely submerged in the ice cold water. Dwalin's strong body was working next to him, the other dwarf just as scared as Thorin was. He could feel his strong hands holding onto the boy next to Thorin's own, gripping tightly where Thorin's fingers had faltered on their own. Thorin knew this was bad. He knew this might be it. He knew he might not pull through this time, it might already be to late. He was about to break, he was about to let tears fall free and he did, happy for a split second that he was in the water still. 

“Have you got him?!” Dwalin called as soon as Thorin's head broke the surface of the stream, gasping for breath with Kili's limp body resting against his best. “Thorin, here!” the younger then hurried and reached out, releasing the grip he had held on Kili's clothes to grip his body instead. “I have him.” 

Thorin fought to get firm ground beneath his feet again as the weight of Kili's body was pulled away from him. He did not want to let him go, but Dwalin was strong and Thorin had no strength left. If it had not been for Bofur's helping hands, he might not even have gotten out of the water. Thorin did not even stop to breathe however, before he ran over to the place where his companions had placed the boy, further up the shoreline, away from the water. Because a boy was what Kili still was to him, just a little lad to stupid to understand anything his uncle warned him about. 

“Kili?!” he called, breathless, before his knees had even hit the soft grass beside his nephew. Kili's wet hair was in his face and he was completely motionless, the very image of his pale skin and soaked clothes and still body made Thorin's heart beat terribly hard in his chest as utter fright washed over him, colder than the water he was already drenched in. “Kili answer me boy, come on!”

There was a sudden shudder from the young dwarf beneath him and suddenly Kili coughed violently with water running down his chin. Everyone standing around them in a wide circle, immediately cheered with relief and punched each other on the backs. Kili's eyes were wide in horror and fingers gripping for Thorin's tunic as his uncle wrapped his strong arms around him, pulling him close to his chest. 

“There, there,” he whispered, his voice shaking just as much as Kili's entire body, but he tried not to mind and calmed his heart with the feel of the younger's body against his own. Kili was crying heavily against his shoulder and his hands were gripping Thorin's clothing so hard his knuckles turned white. “Calm down, Kili, you're safe now, I've got you. Breathe.” He then looked up and met Balin's eyes, knowing quite well he himself must be looking terrified and anything but majestic, but Balin only smiled gently towards him and then sent for something hot to drink for the wet ones. Someone came with a blanket and wrapped it around their shoulders, giving Thorin a good pat on the back before pulling back from them both. “Where is Fili?” Thorin then had to ask and tried to see him but he was no where to be found amongst the dwarves, neither was the wizard. “Fili?” he called out louder and for a moment he panicked as the other dwarves looked around as well. Fili had gone into the water too, had he not? Did no one know where he was? Had no one bothered to help him?! He could fell Kili tens up in his arms, probably realizing what might be going on. He was just about to say everything would be alright, let Kili go and get up on shaky legs to go look for his other boy, when he heard a familiar voice calling from between the trees to the right, followed by swift steps across the grass. 

“Kili!” the blonde one called, now audible and soon he emerged from the woods, twigs in his wet hair, ignoring a gushing wound on his thigh. “Where is my brother?!” 

“Calm yourself lad.” Thorin could hear Balin say in a soft voice and soon, the older of the two brother's was right there, arms pulling at Kili, as if trying to take him away from their uncle. Thorin was immediately calmer now, composed even as he slowly let go of the still trembling body he had held so tight until now. He knew that feeling, the one Fili was filled with, that would never ever leave him from this day on. He had thought his brother lost forever, thought him dead and cold on the ground before his feet. That Fili could still speak was a wonder in itself. Thorin would give them time, scold them later. 

“Kili?” the older whispered and placed kisses all over his brother's wet hair. “Brother, don't cry anymore. I am here, we both are. Ssh, it's only a little water, nothing you cannot handle, I know it.”

Thorin had stood up and was slowly stepping backwards into the crowd surrounding the two boys on the ground. He could feel more than one pat on the back from someone who thought him strong or brave. There was a smile on his face that was both of relief and lingering fright. At least they were all safe, which was not to be said about the ponies, he feared. They would have someone go and check for them further down the stream, if the Hobbit had not gone already. He was soon outside the circle of cheering friends and family, nodding gently to his oldest nephew as Fili looked up with thankful eyes. Thorin's heart was back to beating in its usual, steady pace again. Finally. 

“Let us get these lads some food and drink!” Borfur then called from over by their camp and Thorin watched as both Fili and Kili were helped up to their feet, half walking, half carried over to the warmth by the crackling fire. Kili was not smiling, water still dripping from his hair and he was clutching his brother terribly hard, as if fearing he would be lost without him close. They were soon fed, warmed up, dried off and pampered. Gandalf, Dori, Nori and Ori came back from searching for ponies, no animals following them but carrying mushrooms and wild berries in their arms, the wizard making sure to put smiles on both Fili's and Kili's faces. 

Thorin had, with all thankfulness, refused a seat by the fire but gladly accepted the hot bowl of soup Bombur had handed him, along with some pipe weed and water to drink. He was now sitting with his pipe between his lips and a damp blanket resting across his back and shoulders, leaning against the bread trunk of a tree where the sun still shown brightly down at him between the leaves. He was still cold, but he could manage it better than most. After all, he had been worse off than he was now. He had removed his boots, warming his toes on the last bit of sunshine, knowing the night would be even more terrible still, if his feet were as cold as ice. Balin had taken his boots and set them down to dry by the fire. He looked forward to put them back on again, later when they were warm and dry. 

“How are you doing?” 

Thorin blinked twice and looked up through still damp hair, smiling weakly as his eyes fell upon the stern face of Dwalin standing before him. For the moment, Thorin could not master a reply and only quirked a brow, his friend and kinsman knowing full well how he must be feeling. 

“I see,” Dwalin nodded and did not ask for permission before seating himself on the ground next to Thorin's feet, the leg of his trousers and the heat of his thigh close to covering the cold toes that had been longing for nothing but warmth. Thorin shuddered and decided it would be best to take a nice deep breath of weed, so that was what he did. “But you've eaten at least?” 

“I have,” he answered back and closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the trunk of the tree. “I needed the warmth, the energy.” 

“You did good, Thorin.” 

“Yes,” Thorin nodded and reopened his eyes to peer back at the smoking dwarf in front of him. “And thank you, for helping me.” 

“Oh.” At this, the younger dwarf seemed flushed and unable to choose his words for a while. Getting praised and responding to it had never been one of Dwalin's strong sides. “Those lads are family, of course I would help? I know you depended on me. Pulling a heavy dwarf out of a roaring stream? That is not even something the mighty Thorin could do all by himself. So I had to help you, for all our sakes. Because who will those lads depend on, if not you?”

“You might have a point there,” Thorin chuckled, feeling stiff and cold still, even though the other's warm body against his toes should have brought him at least a speck of reassurance. “But thank you, even so.” 

They sat in silence for a while, both dwarves watching the rest of the company eating, laughing, singing and slowly getting ready for bed as the darkness sank beyond the trees. By now, Thorin was happy about the warm leg covering his feet. He slowly ran out of pipe weed, which was nothing he couldn't handle, but he wished for a moment that he'd had a pint of mead to go with the last of it. 

“Thorin,” Dwalin suddenly mumbled and pulled his own pipe out of his coat, stuffing it with weed casually, fingers working swiftly. “Are you alright?”

The question was slow and spoken gently, as if Dwalin knew what kind of feelings it could strike in Thorin's mind to ask. As a matter of fact, the younger probably knew all too well what went on in his leader's troubled mind. Thorin felt a sudden need to curl up and bury his face inside the comfort of his own arms, cry or even give up and have someone else hold him, but those were not options he had. He'd stopped crying out of sadness a long time ago, and he would not do it now nor in the future. The tears from only hours ago, mixing with the river water still, were far gone from his mind by now. He had successfully denied their very existence. 

“Why do you ask?” he responded, after realizing his pipe was now done for. 

“Those lads,” Dwalin explained in the same low, mumbling way and his eyes were watching the other dwarves crawl down beneath blankets over by the fire. Fili and Kili were still up, Fili slowly running his hand up and down his brother's back as they spoke in muffled voices, not to disturb anyone and not at all in their usual happy fashion. “They mean a lot to you, Thorin. We all know that. And I don't expect you to feel well considering you just thought you'd lost them.” 

“Of course they mean a lot to me,” Thorin responded and realized too late that he had almost sounded insulted by Dwalin's words. He quickly cleared his throat and give the younger a quick smile before continuing, thinking more about the way he spoke this time. “They're Dis's sons, they are like my own in a sense.” 

“They are?” At this, his friend sounded surprised and looked back at Thorin only for a moment, before turning his gaze back to watch the two boys. Fili seemed to have persuaded the younger to crawl down beneath the blankets, tucking him in as if he was just a child. 

“I have watched them grow,” Thorin sighed and realized it felt strange to speak to Dwalin about this. They had never once stumbled upon the conversation of family in the last ten to fifty years and speaking of it now, in a place like this one, when he had just recently realized what both Fili and Kili could actually mean to him as a King, was odd and made him uncomfortable. After all, this was Dwalin. “I was there when they were born. They look to me as family, which we of course are by blood. But Fili is also my heir... And I could not have asked for a better one to succeed me.” 

“But you don't know that yet,” Dwalin chuckled in response and Thorin immediately felt his heart dropping and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up furiously in cold sweat. “The day you have dwarflings of your own, Fili will not be your heir anymore, by then your own will seem like gifts from Aule and you will not regret a thing. Or so I have been told.” 

“I suppose you are right.” Thorin answered plainly but had to swallow hard and long, forcing the scream of agony down further into his stomach, where it would lie and poison his mind. Dwalin seemed to understand that something was wrong and that said something had been caused by his words. The younger thought for a moment about what he had said and then his eyes widened slowly. He did not look at Thorin as he stood up, but he gave him a hesitant, yet gentle, tap on the knees as he moved. 

“I will leave you to your thoughts, old friend.” he said. “I'll take first watch.”

“No,” Thorin objected, almost immediately. “Let me have it. I will not be sleeping anytime soon either way.” 

At this, Dwalin nodded and walked away, emptying his pipe as he went. He almost seemed to be hurrying and Thorin did not blame him. He tried not to watch the other as he walked, but it was pointless to fight it, which was something he had known from the start. He believed however, that even though you know something is futile, you should not give up. No matter how hard you'd have to try, no matter how miserably you would fail. Never stop trying. Never give up. Not even when your heart drives you mad and it beats so hard you fear you might burst and die. That was why he tried to pull his eyes away, even knowing he would never be able to. 

***

2869 The Blue Mountains 

“Uncle, what are you looking at?” the tiny voice of his nephew came like birdsong from behind him and Thorin was snapped out of his distracted state, face warm from the fire he had been watching and shoulders sore from the days work. The blonde boy was standing on his tip-toes as he turned to look at him, hands behind his back and bright eyes watching him curiously when waiting for the answer to his question. 

“Nothing, little one,” Thorin hurried to smile and the boy tilted his head slightly to the side, braids colored in gold falling across his small shoulders as he did so. Thorin could not help but smile more at this. “I was only warming myself after today's cold weather.”

“Oh...” 

“Come here and let me have a look at you, Fili,” Thorin smiled and reached a tired arm for the boy, who gladly skipped the last bit of floor to soon stay before his uncle. He was bright and kind, tall for his age and eager to learn, his sister's son. Since Fili's birth, life had not been the same around their home in the mountain. There had been life amongst them again, happy laughter and running feet across the stone floors. Both Fili and his baby brother had brought feelings back into Thorin's heart which he had believed dead a long time ago. Without even knowing it themselves, the two little dwarves were the hope Thorin had needed to stay afoot, a hope for the future, for them all. 

“Have I changed?” the young one now asked and smiled widely, a tooth missing up front. 

“You change every day,” Thorin admitted and let a rough fingertip grace the small one's nose as he spoke. “Which is a good thing.”

“Why?” 

“Because that means you grow up properly.” Thorin chuckled and placed his hand softly around the small boy's neck to pull him closer to the fire, where he could have a better look at him. The soft fuzz on his nephew's chin and cheeks had grown thicker in the last year of his life, but it was still no where near a beard. Thorin only smiled, not even he had had such a mighty scruff at the age of ten. 

“But what about the new thing?” 

“What new thing?” Thorin asked back, puzzled, before he realized that the space where Fili's tooth was missing was not at all as open as it had been before. “Don't tell me,” he then chuckled and let his large hand rest on top of the child's hair, ruffling it as he grinned. “You seem to be growing new tines, lad, aren't you?” 

“Yes!” almost squealed the boy and jumped in the air with excitement only a child can portray. “And mother says that soon I will lose more and get more and when all of them are out I'll be all grown up and then I can play with Kili everyday and we can go hunting with you uncle and you will be king and we will be your princess and we will all be really happy in another home and...” 

“Slow down,” Thorin chuckled and ruffled Fili's hair once again, eyes bright but heart jabbing painfully at what the boy had just said. “One day at the time, yes? It is a good thing that you are growing up, dear Fili, but don't do it all too quickly,” 

“Why not?” The boy looked positively mortified at what he'd just heard. 

“I would not want this time to pass to quickly,” Thorin tried to explain to the little one and felt his heart warm up and melt by the mere sweetness of his innocent expression. “You and your brother are my family as well, do you understand?” As the boy nodded, Thorin smiled gently and leaned in to place his forehead against Fili's, being sure not to lean too much of his own weight against him. Their noses were touching in the same way his own nose had touched Fili's mother's when they were younger, the same way it had touched their brother's, their mother's and their father's. “You are already my little prince, there is no need to grow up so quickly. This is just the way you should stay, for now. Alright?” 

“Alright,” Fili nodded, eyes closed in a large grin once more and both small hands reaching up to grip at the sides of Thorin's beard. “But when I grow up my beard will be just as big and thick as yours, yeah?” 

“I'll help you out, I promise,” was all Thorin could answer back, his eyes dampening behind his eyelids and his throat feeling dry and awkward as he tried to swallow. “Don't you worry, Fili, I've got you covered.”

*** 

2941 Quest to the Lonely Mountain

“Uncle Thorin?” 

Thorin must have dozed off, because he opened his eyes with a jerk and looked up into Fili's young face, shocked that it had suddenly gotten so dark. The memories from his dream quickly vanished into a soft mist of emotions and he could not help but eventually smile weakly as realized he was quite awake, in the presence of his beloved nephew. The younger dwarf was carrying a blanket, which he now reached out to his uncle with a steady hand. 

“Thank you,” Thorin nodded and sat up more straight against the trunk of the tree, his back stiff and cold, his toes like ice. “How long have I been out?” 

“Longer than I care to admit, for the sake of your pride,” Fili smiled and bent to take Thorin's boots from the ground, where he must have placed them next to his feet before waking him up. “You'll need these for your feet, it's colder than usual tonight,” 

“I suspect if feels colder for you, since your clothes are still slightly damp,” he chuckled back and was just about to get up and pull his boots on, when Fili seated himself where Dwalin had lingered a couple of hours ago. Thorin decided then that maybe he should remain seated himself. Fili must have come to speak to him for a reason, he might have been even more upset than Thorin had been by the earlier events, after all. He might still be. “And thank you,” he added as he decided to pull his boots on at least, even though it was harder from a sitting position. 

Fili nodded in acknowledgment and his eyes trailed back over to the sleeping company and the still crackling fire amongst them. It seemed the younger dwarf must have the watch, because as far as Thorin could tell, no one but the two of them were up. He gave his nephew a long look, trying to see fright or worry in his eyes, but found nothing but calm composure there. Fili was a dwarf with stubbornness and honor at mind, but he was also gentle and composed in things concerning grave matters. He could crack a joke and make everyone around him laugh, but he could be just as methodical as funny, if he truly had to be, skills which Thorin could only have dreamt of having when he was younger. In more ways than one, Fili reminded him of his sister in that way. Always strong and brave, but naïve in many aspects of his young life, just as she had been. All qualities fitting for a true prince of Dwarves, qualities Thorin had never possessed. Not according to himself at any rate. 

“He asked for you, Kili did,” the young one finally said and kept his eyes on the sleeping dwarves. Somewhere amongst them, Thorin could hear Bifur and Bombur snore together, as if racing each other. Thorin chose not to look at them and focused his attention on the fair dwarf in front of him, a small smile visible on his face as Fili tugged absentmindedly on the right braid dangling from above his lips. He did this sometimes when thinking. A family trait perhaps. One that Thorin knew he himself had, along with his brother and sister as well. 

“He did?” 

“Yes,” Fili nodded and there was a fond smile tugging at the sides of his mouth. “When he was finally relaxing, he asked for you. He wanted to thank you for pulling him out,” 

“Why didn't you come and get me?” Thorin smiled, probably with the same fondness as Fili was. 

“He was so tired he slept within the minute, and you were sleeping as well. I didn't have the heart,” His nephew explained and at this, he looked back at his beloved uncle with a small grin. “Besides, I wanted to thank you as well, so I felt it was better to do it when you were rested and Kili was asleep. I wouldn't want him to know...” 

“Know what?” 

Fili sighed a little and raised his knees so that he could rest his chin against them, fingers plucking blades of grass from the ground around him. 

“How upset I was, how upset I still am. How scared I was...” he then answered and Thorin felt a jab of cold break through his heart at the sight of the young dwarf, still so small and innocent somehow. You could tell that he still wasn't fully grown, that he still wasn't prepared to the fullest for what might happen during this long journey. To be honest, Thorin might not be ready either. Especially not if this road would take the boys away from him. He sighed and left the trunk of the tree behind as he moved across the ground to sit closer to Fili, who was now shaking slightly. 

“There is nothing wrong with being upset, you do know that,” As he spoke, Thorin contemplated placing a hand on his nephews back but it was harder to do than he had expected. Their relationship might not have changed much from Fili's point of view, since he was a small boy, but affection was harder to show when you knew the other was old enough to truly understand your actions. He ended up with his right hand reached out in midd air, hovering above Fili's shoulder blade. 

“I know,” the blond nodded at this and Thorin could hear clearly how Fili's voice was now in a tremble as he spoke. “But I... I wasn't prepared for this Thorin. We weren't prepared for it. We almost lost him... I don't...” His voice trailed off. By now, Thorin's hand was firmly placed against Fili's quivering back, without a moment more of hesitation. 

“It scared me too, Fili,” he admitted and decided to wrap the blanket around them both before leaning in against his nephew and resting his hand once more against the younger's shoulder. “It scared us all. But you shouldn't think too much about it. I would understand if you would want to take Kili and go home, but I also know that your own pride would never allow it. I will do all I can for his safety, and yours. You know this.” He paused and felt how the other slowly leaned in agains him, felt his warmth and remembered the small boy who used to crawl into his lap on cold evenings, begging to hear stories about the land before time. “There is no need for you to worry, I was there today, was I not?” 

“But I cannot count on you to always be there, can I?” Fili asked, looking up at Thorin now with wide eyes, tears once again rolling down his cheeks, breaking his calm facade. “If you hadn't been today, he would have... Kili would have...” 

“But I was,” Thorin smiled and leaned his forehead against Fili's, a warm hand gripping his cheek gently to keep him calm, stroking his tears away with his thumb. “And he didn't. I know you are hurting right now, Fili, but I am still right here, remember?” Fili was nodding and Thorin smiled as he let the boy lean to rest his head in his lap, eyes closed hard and tears still rolling down his cheeks, dampening his cheeks and beard. “You rest now, you're safe here.” 

“Mmh.” his nephew mumbled and reached to pull their blanket around himself. Thorin only smiled as it slid of his own shoulders. He could let Fili have it, after all, the younger's body was warm enough to keep him comfortable for a while. 

“Sleep tight, little prince.” 

At that, Fili chuckled weakly and protested mildly, gesturing something with his hands which Thorin could not understand, before he sank back down against his uncle's lap and was soon asleep. He must have been exhausted. The night seemed to still be early, Thorin then realized and watched the stars slowly come out from behind thick clouds. It would be another hour or so before someone expected to be woken up for their post. He might as well enjoy his peace and quiet, before he had to be Thorin Oakenshield again, leader of his company, soon to be King under the Mountain. 

The night was still, the stars bright and his heart felt relaxed for once. He closed his eyes for a moment and drew deep breaths of fresh air in through his nostrils, the pricking scent of smoke making him shiver. It was not the same kind of smoke as the kind which haunted his dreams, but it was close enough. Maybe it would just be better to stay alert and perhaps let his fingers run through Fili's hair until someone else woke up.


	3. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> duty [ˈd(y)oōtē]  
> noun ( pl. -ties)  
> 1 a moral or legal obligation; a responsibility : _it's my duty to uphold the law | she was determined to do her duty as a citizen | a strong sense of duty._  
>  • [as adj. ] (of a visit or other undertaking) done from a sense of moral obligation rather than for pleasure : _a fifteen-minute duty visit._  
>  2 (often duties) a task or action that someone is required to perform : _the king's official duties | your duties will include sweeping the switchboard | Juliet reported for duty._  
>  • military service : _combat duty in the army._

2941 Quest to the Lonely Mountain

“Have you thought of it?” the wizard asked as the both of them stopped not to far from the rest of the company, unloading ponies as the others set up camp. Thorin was conflicted, not quite sure what the question meant but he suspected that would be explained and only raised a questioning brow at the old figure before continuing of their work. “Of what comes after this?” 

“One mission at the time, Mr Gandalf,” Thorin chuckled slightly and felt for the pipe he carried inside his coat, leaning against a tree while lighting it. “First this, dragon and all, then the rest, in time,” 

“Tell me, Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror, is it a custom for Kings of Dwarves to never plan ahead?” 

The remark burned into his backbone and Thorin looked up to meet the wizard's cold bright eyes, seeing amusement shine back at him as if what he had said had been truly witty. Thorin himself was careful not to show emotion, amusement or anger. He might not have much pride to speak of in himself, but there was much pride in his people which had just been offended by those words. He could not at all see how Gandalf could have meant that to be a joke which they both would find amusing. He had plainly, with a glimmer in his eyes, insulted both the name of Thorin's father, as well as the last king under the Mountain. Did Gandalf not see himself that what he had said was problematic? Thorin had wondered all this time why this wizard, this strong being with power unexplainable and unimaginable to him, even agreed to help him on this quest to begin with. He sure seemed to be making more jokes than being of help, at least now when they were all properly rested after the visit at Beorn's home.

“Seeing as I have no real idea of what we will meet once we arrive at the Mountain,” Thorin finally replied after pulling in a deep breath of smoke, eyes still watching the other from under thick brows. He was certainly not amused. “It would be foolish for me to plan ahead, would it not? I have some idea and have of course planned some things, but I cannot know for sure how my life, their lives, the lives of my kin will be affected by this. If we all perish, Aule forbid, we might not make any difference in the large scheme of things. If the dragon is already long since dead, then what do we do? Mr Gandalf, I appreciate your concern, but seeing as I am the leader of this Company, I would advice you to leave the worrying to me, yes?” 

“Oh I do not worry, my dear Dwarf Prince, not one bit.” Gandalf responded and lightened his own, long pipe with that same glimmer in his eyes, a glimmer Thorin had slowly come to hate. 

He knew the wizard was only there to help, but it felt as if he was always watched by someone higher up than him, someone who believed themselves having authority over Thorin and his actions, his decisions and his conviction. As if Gandalf was his long lost grandfather and nothing would escape him, good or bad. That glimmering light in his eyes made Thorin feel more exposed than he had done in years, as if the other could look straight through his armor and his built up walls, straight into the deepest, darkest parts of his mind. He did not like it. He felt like a child, longing for the cave on the Northern side of the Mountain where he could escape to be himself. The others might be upset to see Gandalf go, but Thorin knew that staying longer in his company would only be bad for him. He would be glad when the wizard had gone, he thought. He would be able to relax and make his own decisions. 

“I trust you believe you know what to do, to do what is right for your people, your kin,” Gandalf then continued.

“Alright then,” Thorin answered back plainly and closed his eyes as he drew in another deep breath of soothing smoke. He could not allow himself to be bothered, not now. If Gandalf was trying to drive a wedge into his armor then he would be disappointed, because Thorin would not let him get that close. The comment still burned however, like poison ivy against your skin, and the last thing the wizard had said did just the same, building onto the burn as if he was trying to rub it into his wounds. 'I trust you believe you know what to do'. Thorin spat on the ground when Gandalf seemed too busy to care and then leaned back against the trunk of the tree again, feeling his rage boiling right beneath the surface. 

“Then how about, what happens if you are truly crowned King under the Mountain?” 

Apparently the wizard was not done and the question struck cold spite in Thorin's already bubbling core. Could he not just leave it? Could he not have stopped when he must have realized his words had been insulting to Thorin's honor and to the pride of his family, his kin? He sighed audibly before looking back at the taller one, his eyes showing more annoyance than he might have wanted to reveal. 

“What of it?” 

“You do not have to be angry with me, my dear Dwarf,” Gandalf chuckled slightly and gave Thorin a smile that could have melted frozen rivers, yet it was colder than ice to Thorin himself. “I am merely here to give you council, perhaps the last council you will ever get from someone who is not in this for their own gain.” he then explained, his voice calm and composed. “Take it, and I am sure you will come out a wiser King in the end,” 

At this, Thorin only nodded, his jaw clenched too hard for him to speak. Gandalf seemed to take this as a sign of understanding and acceptance of his advice and therefore continued, to Thorin's malcontent. 

“You do know that becoming an official King under the Mountain gives you more responsibility than you have had so far? I am not saying that leading your kin to the Blue Mountains and giving them a home there has not been a great burden with many duties following with it, do not believe I am mocking you in that sense. Quite the opposite. What I am saying, is that being an official King might bring more trouble to your door than you have been expecting.” 

“How so?” Thorin allowed himself to ask but felt a growing hole at the pit of his stomach, like a vast darkness of fear spreading through out his lower body. What was he truly getting at with this? 

“You will be expected to behave like a King, act accordingly. Your own feelings will not be accounted for, because you will have the wealth and prosperity of a kingdom on your shoulders and no matter what you feel, the kingdom will have to be your number one priority,” Gandalf explained and as Thorin wrinkled his brows in confusion, knowing full well what duties he would be put under, but not quite understanding why that would have something to do with his own thoughts, the wizard spoke again. “You will have to act the way which is expected of you, settle down, train armies, be generous and helpful. There is an enormous treasure waiting for you in the halls of Erebor, you do know that. And I am sure you remember quite well what happened to the last King under the Mountain when all that gold lay before his feet?” 

“I remember.” Thorin answered through clenched teeth, the memory etched into his head as if the dragon himself had burned it there.

“You will have to steel your mind, my dear friend, from all that is evil and spoilt about what lies before you. You will have to do things you do not want, because those are the duties of a King,”

“I understand all that,” Thorin objected, sounding more annoyed than thankful for the advice he had been given. The wizard frowned, at the tone of his voice no doubt, but Thorin did not at all care. “I know what I will have to sacrifice to become King under the Mountain, and I am ready for it. I would not have gone on this quest if it had not been for the conviction and determination of my heart and the hearts of my kin?” 

“That might be true,” Gandalf sighed and made smoke rings after speaking, almost as if not quite caring about what Thorin had said. “But what about the little things, Thorin? What about marrying and having heirs of your own?” The question came like a blow to the head and Thorin looked bewildered for a moment, glad the wizard was not looking at him then, as his eyes grew large and blank. “What about never getting the chance to be your own person, climb trees and walk in the woods? Would you be able to let that freedom go for the rest of your life, after all your years out here?” 

When Gandalf looked back at him now, Thorin had collected himself from the river of panic in his mind and he emptied his pipe as he answered, not looking the wizard in the eyes. He was not ready for that quite yet. 

“Do you think this is the life I would have chosen if I had had the choice?” he asked and when Gandalf did not respond immediately, Thorin went on, his voice stern and his mind made up. “I have been without my home for most of my life. I lost everything, or close too it, before my sister was even fully grown. This is my duty, my mission to see through and I will do it, even if my life ends with it. I stopped walking in the woods for pleasure when I lost my brother, my friends and my father. I do believe that you already know that. As for a family, I am quite sure I will not have the time to court and keep one. You speak of duties as a King, I speak of the time I will have to spend rebuilding my Kingdom before it can prosper again. I would not bring a child into this world before that is done. Besides, Fili is my heir, and he will be a just and good King under the Mountain when I am gone.” 

“Is that your reason then?” Gandalf inquired and Thorin felt the question jab at his most inner secrets, the light in the wizard's eyes growing with curiousness. “That the world is broken and not a place for a child to grow in just yet?” 

“It is. Why do you ask?” Thorin was sure that the look he was given was one of disbelief and amusement, but he told himself that was only his mid playing tricks. He had been lying, yes, but there was no reason for the wizard not to believe him. Gandalf did not know, from what Thorin understood. There was no reason for the old one to suspect anything either. 

“I have merely been wondering,” Gandalf answered after returning his attention to his smoking for a little while, calming Thorin slightly with his words. “Most Dwarves I know have a deep sense of family and commitment, despite what others might think. But you have never spoken about settling, committing or anything like it, from what your friends tell me.”

“You have been asking them about me?” Thorin close to snapped but hindered himself from sounding nothing but curious at the last minute. 

“Of course I have,” the wizard chuckled and threw a look back at the company over his shoulder. “They were very eager to speak of you, all of them. But don't you worry, they only told me good things, and spoke with much love and loyalty. You have good friends in them all. You should be happy.” 

“Why do you think I brought them and no other?” Thorin nodded but did not smile. He could not let the thought of Gandalf asking around about him behind his back go. It was like having ants crawling across your skin to know that he might have discovered things from some of his friends that Thorin had said in outmost confidence. Who knew what kind of tricks and manners of persuasion a wizard could use when interrogating someone. “I trust them all with my life.” 

“And what of the Hobbit?” 

At this, Thorin could not fight the urge to look surprised and turned his face away to hide it, looking towards the fire that was no reaching for the heavens and the small figure of the Hobbit next to it. Mr Baggins was speaking happily with Bombur and Bifur, probably about food, Thorin thought. The sight made him smile slightly, even though the small creature was not at all close to wining him over with his constant wining and mumbling about warm beds in the night. 

“He has yet to prove his worth,” he then admitted and straightened his back before giving Gandalf a quick glance. “And so have you, my friend,” Thorin knew this to be untrue. The wizard had already saved their lives more than once. But he was more upset than he cared to admit, therefore, he chose to ignore this fact. As he fell silent, he gave the old one a nod and turned his back to him, walking away from both ponies and wizard while swallowing hard. 

“I know your secret, Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror,” then came the other's voice like cold drops of water hitting the back of Thorin's neck, striking him with his back turned, impaling him with fatal wounds that would not mend. He knew it then, that this was it, the moment he had been dreading all his life. The moment his walls would crumble and he would break, finally. He would fall to the ground, defenseless and broken, for everyone to see. And they would laugh, he was sure, and they would spite him until the end of time. “Tell me, will you take it with you to the grave?”

Thorin quivered where he stood, frozen to the ground with fists shaking by his sides and breath driven from his body. After a second he drew a quick mouthful of air, forcing the panic down with every spec of oxygen entering his body before speaking. 

“I have no secret bigger than anyone else. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have duties to tend to.” And so, he left. 

***

2769 Greenwood forest 

“One day we will bring Dis here with us,” Thorin smiled as he leaned back against the moss covered stone behind him. He was biting carefully on a piece of grass and his arms were folded comfortably behind his head. 

“How so?” his brother asked from beside him in the grass, peering up at him with his amber eyes, curious but trying to avoid the sun as it threatened to blind him. Frerin was squinting, making his face look absolutely adorable in a childish manner. Thorin grinned as he watched the younger's face shrivel up and then reached his arm out to help shield the boy from further exposure to the bright light above their heads. 

“I think she would be delighted, that is all,” he then stated and watched as Frerin relaxed in the temporary shade his arm provided. “Just imagine her smile after shooting her first boar or the excitement in her voice when she tells father about it,” 

“Her excited voice would scare all the animals away, Thorin,” his brother joked and Thorin immediately felt cross with him for what he suspected him to say next. “It is too bright to be the voice of a hunter. She never learned how to whisper or stay quiet after all, hunting is nothing for her,” 

“As much as I adore you, dear brother,” Thorin responded and let his arm fall to his lap so that the sun would once again blind the younger, without warning him. Frerin grunted and turned to his side in an attempt to escape this time. “I cannot find it in my heart to understand how you can be so insensitive to her feelings. Why should she not have the same right to shoot herself a boar or run around recklessly in the woods as we do? She might be a lady, but she is Dis first of all. If we, her brothers, will not fight for her right to be herself, then who will?” 

“Do not take me so seriously, Thorin,” Frerin hurried and his smile was weary and stressed, as if he had just now realized what he had said about his own baby sister. “I never meant to insult her honor. Of course we will bring her with us, after all, she will probably become a better hunter than you one day,” At this, Thorin could do nothing but chuckle and nod in agreement. “It is hard for me though, to see mother allowing us to bring her girl with us, do you not agree that there is a very small chance of that happening?” 

“I suppose,” Thorin sighed in response and looked up into the sky, happy that a tall tree was blocking the sun from blinding him at least. “But we will bring her around, I am sure of it. She will have to realize that Dis is not the lady she wants her to be. After all, this way none of them are pleased with the other's behavior. It seems mother must accept Dis the way she wants to be and Dis will have to accept that our mother is not like her. She is still only a dwarfling after all, much can happen,” 

Frerin mumbled in agreement and Thorin could not help to feel a little better, now that his brother had explained his words. He had always felt much more responsible for his sister's wellbeing than he thought his brother was, not quite sure why of course. Maybe he felt it was his duty as the future King, even if that would be in a distant future of course, to make plans even for her, knowing that no one else would ever listen to her if he did not. He smiled a little and imagined her face, the fact that he would see it so much more often if she just had the chance to be herself, discard her skirts and the jewelry she always complained about. She was a daughter of Kings. It should really be up to her how she wanted to dress, behave and feel about herself. The thought had not struck him even once that the same idea would surely apply to him as well.

“The day Dis can cast her skirts away will be a good day for us all, dear brother,” Frerin chuckled next to him and Thorin could feel him stir in the grass, but did not open his eyes to see what he was doing. “I think it might be time for us to get going...” he then said and Thorin felt his heart sink immediately. He had been denying the fact that he was not at all allowed to be out on these trips for too long and that now when they had probably been out longer than they had promised, there would be much to pay for upon getting back. He sighed and gave a low groan in disappointment, making his brother laugh and pat him on the shoulder now that he'd had gotten up from the ground. “There there, big brother,” he hummed as he did so and stood calmly by his side as if waiting for Thorin to get up as well. “Father will be more forgiving if we hurry, yes?” 

“And what of the hunt?” Thorin mumbled and eventually opened his eyes, taking Frerin's outstretched arm to pull himself up to his feet. “We haven't even tried,” 

“They do not know that,” his brother chuckled and gave Thorin a rough pat on the shoulder before picking up their gear; bow and arrows for them both, which had been resting against the same stone as Thorin. “And from what I have noticed, you only come with me to be able to relax from your duties, do you not? I don't mind admitting to shooting nothing, and seeing the reasons for you being here, I suppose you don't truly mind either?” 

“I suppose you're right,” Thorin nodded and proceeded to brush some dirt from his clothes, bothered by how clean they looked compared to Frerin's. Thorin would not have been able to blend in amongst other Dwarves, the way his brother could amongst his friends in Dale. At least he was happy Frerin seemed to understand this. 

“I am always right, Thorin,” his brother grinned and threw his arm around Thorin's shoulders as they started walking back towards the ponies they had brought with them. They were standing close together in the shade of two large oak trees, eating the fresh grass growing beneath. “You know that. And I like the side of you that I get to see out here, you are someone quite different in the woods than by the King's table after all. I feel privileged to be the one you show your true self to, brother,”

“How do you know this is the true me?” Thorin grinned back and placed a warm arm around his brother's waist as they walked, the horses looking up at hearing their voices, probably not wanting to get back to the stables either. Thorin knew the feeling. “What if this is only some form of cover?” 

“Now, why would you do something as elaborate as lying about yourself only in the woods?” Frerin's question was just and Thorin had nothing more to say, so he laughed instead and leaped into the saddle with ease, gripping the reins firmly as he waited for his brother to follow. “I wish you could show this side of you at home as well,” Frerin then said and gave Thorin a fond smile as they set off in a slow pace, the horses half asleep after the calm hours in the shade. “I know for a fact that Dis would love it, just as much as I do,” 

“Maybe some day I will show her this side of me then,” Thorin smiled but didn't say he would do it back at home. He had too many things that rested on his shoulders to be able to let his father know his true feelings. His father had much enough to think of as it was, after all.

Now, he was not at all glad to be back on his restless pony, trotting along the small paths and eventually down the dirt road towards the city of Dale and the Mountain. His dark hair was warm within from exposure to the sun however, and he tried his best not to think of all the things he would have to do upon returning. He loved the way the warmth lingered against his head, like the feeling of a blanket which had covered a bed-warmer filled with burning coal before your bedtime. He could feel his pony move steadily beneath him, her movements soft and easy, she had trailed these paths before when Frerin took her out, Thorin was sure. 

“Don't you worry about what father will say,” his brother suddenly smiled and Thorin was brought back to the reality of the hard road beneath his horse's hoofs and the steep hill they were climbing. They had gotten further than he would have wished, but he hid this in a small smile he sent for his Frerin. “I will be with you,” his brother then continued and kept smiling widely. “If anything bad happens, you can blame me and I will take the fall for you,”

“Why do you always do that?” Thorin felt compelled to ask and this time his grin grew for real. “Not that I am anything but thankful of course,”

“Because I know what a burden it is for your to return from freedom in the woods to duty in your own home. I have never had the pressure on my shoulders that you have, I have never known grandfather's wrath only because I have been in the woods longer than promised, I, nor our sister, has ever had father disappointed in us for the sole reason of having twigs in our hair. I know our parents love you dearly and all they do want for you is the best upbringing they can give you, but I also know that you are not comfortable with the way they treat you a lot of the time, and I am ready to take the fall for you, brother, whenever I can, to take that burden off of your shoulders. Even if it's only for a moment,” 

“Says a true Royal Guard of the King,” chuckled Thorin in response, even though he felt both teary eyed and honored by his brother's words. He knew he had a true friend in him, someone who would cross fire and death to be by his side. If he was ever to tell anyone of his deepest and darkest secrets, it would be Frerin. Then again, he was still only a boy. It could wait at least a little longer, if even at all. Thorin would have to do without. “And thank you, for being supportive of my decisions,” 

“Someone has to be, right?” Frerin grinned and waved casually at someone next to the road whom he knew from Dale. Thorin looked around and saw familiar faces everywhere, but he knew almost no names other than some of the more influential Men in the city. It made him wonder sometimes, how much he truly missed out on when he was called for duty in the Great Hall, as his brother and sister escaped for the woods and their friends. 

“You and Dis are my saviors, brother,” he smiled back as they made their way the last bit of road for the stables, but Frerin was too busy nodding at friends to notice the smile on his face. 

“Well, we are to be your right hand men, are we not?” came the answer though and Frerin's manner of saying it made his heart warm. His brother had always spoken so casually about things like that, no matter how serious they were. Thorin looked forward to it though, to have Frerin around always, to see Dis in other clothes than the ones she was forced to wear now, fierce and strong with arms ready to fight side by side with him. 

“If you are still up to it, when the time comes?” At the question, Frerin ignored his friends and turned back to look at Thorin, his eyebrows wrinkled, probably from thinking he had been asked this in all seriousness. But he relaxed visibly as he saw the grin on Thorin's face. 

“Do you mock my honor, brother?” he then asked back and left his pony with the grace worthy of an Elf, before handing the reins to a friend of his. “I count on you,” he told the dwarf before turning to face Thorin again, whom had now left the back of his horse as well. “Of course I cannot speak for our sister, but if you ask me, know that I would never hesitate to come when you call.” 

“That's the brother I know.” Thorin smiled and already missed his pony as another dwarf walked off with her. 

He felt Frerin's arm around his shoulders before he even turned to look at him again, and his smile widened as they walked up towards the large Gates with arms around each other. Frerin smelt of horse and hunting gear, leather and sweat, a mix of scents that made Thorin feel happy still to be alive. It was something completely different from the expensive fabrics his own clothes were made of and the endless usage of scented oils his mother persisted on forcing upon them. The scent of sun and salt from his brother's tanned skin as Frerin suddenly pulled him close in the shade of the mountain, made Thorin want to shrink and become a small child again, not caring about anything in the world but the sun and the sand by the river.

“It will be alright,” Frerin mumbled into the fabric of Thorin's shoulder and tightened his arms around his older brother's waist as he spoke. “I will always be this close, you know that, don't you?” 

“Yes,” Thorin replied and wanted to curse as his voice trembled momentarily. They did not hold each other often, not this close to home at least. That was not because it would have been frowned upon, being close with family was what fueled most dwarves of high stature (it kept you from growing slowly corrupt with power, his mother had told him when he was young), but because Thorin avoided it most of the time and Frerin let him. It was as if his younger brother knew that something about being close in this manner pained Thorin somewhere deep down, and he had thus let him have his space to himself. Why he had decided to break that barricade now Thorin did not know, but he appreciated it more than he could say.

“Now come, let us tell these old men they have no power over us?” the younger then smiled and leaned back, hands still resting against Thorin's body and his amber eyes smiling brightly at him. “You are strong brother, strong and magnificent. They know that, just as I know it, just as Dis knows it. You shouldn't doubt your authority in there. Yes, you are younger and they are far wiser than you, but you are the hope they have for the future. After all, they would not want a King who cannot hunt, who doesn't know a thing about common life. Tell them that, and you will have them crying for your forgiveness, not the other way around,” 

“Aren't you going a bit too far with your imagination there?” Thorin smiled weakly and leaned his forehead against Frerin's, closing his eyes as his brother reached to cover his ears with his warm palms. 

“Maybe they won't cry at your feet,” the younger then admitted and even though the sound of his voice was muffled, Thorin was sure he could hear the smile on Frerin's lips as he spoke. “But if you show them just how strong you are, I am sure they will listen to you,” 

Thorin only nodded at this, feeling his stomach turn but not letting it show in his face as they broke apart and soon headed in through the large gates. He knew they would probably listen, for now. But every time he was out, he heard the same thing and no matter what he said, no matter if they forgave him, each time it happened again they were just the same angry relatives as the last. Besides, Thorin knew it in his core that he was not at all as strong as his brother believed. He did not cry often, not in front of anyone but the stone walls of the Mountain herself, but he knew that some day he might break with nothing to stop him from splitting open for everyone else to see. He was terribly afraid that day was not too far off into the future. So no, he was not strong. Not at all.

They walked closely together up the wide stone steps towards the Hall, nodding to family and friends that passed them by but not speaking to anyone. There was urgency in their steps and no one would have dared stopping them to strike up a mindless conversation. That was the good thing about being an official person. As long as you walked with great urgency, no matter where you were going, no one would dare even looking at you for longer than a couple of seconds. 

“My princes!” a young dwarf lad, their cousin Thorin registered, smiled and bowed at them from where he stood next to a bedroom door. His hair was dark brown and his eyes bright, younger than their sister he was, but Thorin could not for the world remember his name at the moment. It wasn't that he didn't care, but he was in too much of a worry about what would happen when they entered the hall that he had no chance of thinking about anything else. 

“Cousin!” Frerin managed to smile before they had turned the corner and as Thorin gave the young dwarf a quick smile, the little one's face shown bright as the sun. The image stayed with him then, a better thing to think about than having to face the wrath of the King. 

“Ah, the long lost boys,” was what their father said as they stepped into the Hall through a back door, not wanting to disturb the head of their family in case he was busy. But there were no visitors in the Great Hall of Thror that very moment and their father was the only one mending the fort, which was a good thing for them both. “Did you catch anything?” The question was directed at Thorin, even though his brother was the one in charge of their trips. Frerin was ignored for now, but the younger did not seem to mind too much. He was used to it. 

“Not this time father,” Thorin answered plainly and was glad the older dwarf smiled and patter him roughly on the shoulder instead of showing signs of disappointment. “Next time, I am sure we will do better,” 

“Don't you worry,” Thrain said with a soft shake of his head. “I am sure you will.” Their father then turned to smile towards Frerin as well, at which point they both knew they could relax for now. “The King is away on business,” he then explained and his smile turned slightly grim as his eyes darkened by his words. They all knew where their grandfather was, or suspected at least. Thorin felt his stomach clench again. If there was something he was denying more than his own deepest, darkest secrets, it was the sickness which darkened his grandfather's mind. “But I suggest you have a good explanation for being late until he returns, especially since you did not even change your clothes prior to coming here,” 

“I'm sorry father...” Frerin started, determined it seemed, to explain himself so that no blame would be put on Thorin but their father raised a casual hand into the air to silence him mid-sentence. 

“No excuses, I know what it is like to want to have a life outside the royal duties you both have hanging above your heads, but you are both Princes and you should behave as such. Both me, your mother and the King himself agrees on that note,” was what he said but he smiled a little as he met Thorin's eyes. “That being said, I suspected you might come here in your hunting gear and you should thank Aule that you have a father who understands,” He then nodded towards one of the many doors leading out from the Hall, placing one large hand each on the broad young backs of his sons to lead them in the same direction. “I took the liberty to have some of your clothes brought here, make sure you look presentable next time you enter the Halls of your grandfather, yes?” 

Both boys grinned back brightly at the heir to the throne of Thror and hurried over to the room in which their father had let place two stacks of clothing, the larger one for Thorin and the other for Frerin. The both of them laughed nervously as they realized they had snuck away without immediate rage following them, even though they knew their grandfather might as well scold them later even though they would be properly dressed by then. After all, his mind had been troubled lately and he had many things to worry about. Thror had been on edge for half their lives, but he had become worse these past few months and even though it was nothing they spoke of, they all knew the reason. 

“Will you help me with my hair?” his brother asked as he was still pulling a pale tunic over his head, his hair emerging all ruffled like a magpie's nest. Thorin chuckled but looked away quickly after nodding, focusing on his own tunic and everything else that would follow. He suspected his own clothing were actually new, because he had never seen this blue color before on anything he had ever worn. It did not look used either, as if his father had decided to let him inherit something old of his. Frerin's clothes on the other hand were things Thorin knew he himself had owned at some point. Someone must have been through his drawers and found them, thinking that they were less fit for him now than when he had been younger. He was the heir of his father's after all, Frerin was not.

“How do you want it?” he finally asked as he tightened the thick belt around his waist and corrected the blue tunic and the coat, making sure his own braids were even and not filled with twigs. “I would say we don't have much time...” 

“Just put it up,” Frerin responded and handed him the silver clasp he always used for his hair, but Thorin knew it would not at all be that easy. “No one looks at my hair anyway, and your hair looks naturally amazing so you need no help,” 

“I am not sure I would want your help even if I needed assistance,” Thorin teased and got a rough elbow in his side from his brother before the younger turned his back to him so that Thorin could put his hair up. He had to fight to pull his fingers through the thick tangle of hair but was used to it by now, after years of helping his untidy baby brother get ready for banquets and royal visits. Within a couple of minutes he took a step back to admire his handiwork, grinning at the fact that it had taken him that long to do nothing but pull Frerin's hair back and clasp it together to keep it out of the younger's face. “At least you will look close to presentable now,” he chuckled as the younger felt with sun kissed fingers for the clasp and followed the strands of hair to his scalp to make sure it looked alright.

“How about wanting my help in other matters?” Frerin turned to ask when he had made sure, as if that was something he had been meaning to ask but kept himself from saying until Thorin was finished. “You do know that you can talk to me, about anything? I wouldn't judge you, brother, I have told you that so many times now...” 

“I know, I know,” Thorin smiled and patted the younger gently on the shoulder before he steered him towards the door leading back into the Hall. He was smiling brightly, his hands placed firmly against Frerin's strong shoulders, but inside he was screaming. He knew full well that Frerin thought he could handle whatever he threw at him. But Thorin wasn't ready to share, and he knew his brother wasn't ready to listen, not to what truly troubled him at least. It would have to wait for at least a couple of more years. “But if we do not leave to great the King right now, we will both be dead and have nothing more to talk about ever again. So unless you feel like taking that proposal back, I suggest you come with me.” 

Frerin gave him a look which made it clear that he was not done with that conversation and that he had been completely serious, but then started laughing as Thorin pushed him forward. Thorin could not help to adore his brother for that careless laugh he always let out at moments like these, they never failed to cheer him up. He had been smiling too when reaching for the door handle but before they could step out into the Hall again, they were interrupted by a servant they had never seen there before and within moments Thorin found himself uncertain of everything he had ever known in his life to be true, before realizing he did in fact know the man behind the newly grown beard. Frerin quickly offered to stay behind and show the bowing dwarf the way back to their rooms with their clothes, because Thorin was the oldest after all and it was his duty to attend to meetings and everything else, but Thorin, for some reason, refused him the time off. 

“I will do it,” he said and shot Frerin a gentle smile as he spoke. “Grandfather can wait, after all, he sees me every day. Tell father I grew ill and that you will take my seat until I return?” 

“Thorin..?” Frerin whispered under his breath and gave the servant a stiff smile before he leaned in against his brother, speaking in a muffled voice so that the other dwarf wouldn't hear. “What are you doing? You can't just leave your duties, you know this?” 

“A good thing that I am not then?” he answered back but did not smile. “I have grown quite weak and I need to lie down and rest, that means I will show the servant to my room and you can come by and pick up your things later,” Frerin looked confused and did not seem to believe the sudden lie but Thorin couldn't help it. Eventually the younger nodded and gave him a stern pat on the shoulder before leaving the room, giving the servant a look as he went. 

“Make sure someone tends to him?” was all he said before the door closed behind his back. Thorin could breathe out and turned quickly towards the newcomer with brows wrinkled and arms crossed across his chest. He felt more upset than he probably should and his cheeks were already terribly flushed from only looking at that face again. He was surprised that Frerin had not immediately recognized the other, though the change in beard might have been too much for his brother to take in, seeing as he had run off so quickly. Thorin was glad he had not stayed to take a closer look, it would have been hard for the other to explain what he was doing there after all. His heart was beating frantically in its ribcage now, so hard Thorin was sure it could be seen from the outside. 

“What are you doing here, cousin?” 

***

2941 Quest to the Lonely Mountain

Thorin hadn't known what to expect of the Mirkwood forest when hearing Gandalf speak of it. He had been happy to be rid of the annoyance the wizard had caused him, but he was less happy now that the darkness of the wood was closing in on them and the days grew half as long as the nights. They had, since days back, been carrying old Bombur between them, his sleeping figure and haunting snores scaring the lot of them into believing he would never again wake up. Thorin had not expected things to be this dark, the trees to be so silent and all life to be no more between the thick trunks of the once so green forest. He had come here when he was young, maybe not to these parts but he had played in the forest, hunted with his brother and friends... the woods had changed terribly and the thought frightened him.

He had realized that there would probably be no splendor left of the once shining kingdom of his grandfather. There would be no song upon their return to the mountain - which he of course had known all along – and there would be no food or drink. Their rations were quickly running out now, and even though they had lost Bombur's mouth to feed, it would not last them much longer than a couple of days. Even his pipe weed was running scarce and he could hear Kili grumbling about having nothing left through the night. 

They were now resting, in the middle of the path mind you, because they were mutually frightened of losing their heading if they were to set up camp next to it. Thorin was in an awful need of smoking but had decided not to. No one else had much left and he wouldn't want to cause a quarrel because he was better at keeping track of his weed than the rest. His nephews could be seen not far off, discussing whether or not they should sleep close to their uncle or further off, Thorin even found himself flattered by their talk. Fili seemed determined not to bother him, a true Durin he was, always caring about his elders. Kili on the other hand wanted to sleep close to Thorin so that they'd wake up immediately if something was to happen. Fili seemed to think his brother a coward, which he joked openly about. Apparently he thought Kili wanted to sleep by their uncle's feet to get protection, rather than information. Kili seemed cross. 

“Lads, you'll wake the rest,” Thorin mumbled in the dark and pulled his knees a bit closer to his chest, still resting his arms casually on top of them, giving them room to lie down. “Lie down by me and don't fuss anymore. You know how grumpy the burglar gets if he doesn't get his beauty sleep,” 

At that, both youngsters chuckled and tip-toed over to his side, trying not to step on someone in the dark before laying their beds out on the uneven ground. Soon the dark would be so thick that they would not be able to see each other, better to be prepared in time than to stumble around in the darkness and get lost. 

“Thank you uncle,” Fili smiled, Thorin was sure, even though he could not actually see that far in the shadows already enveloping them. “I'm sorry if we made too much noise, that wasn't our intention,”

“I know, I know.” Thorin nodded and felt how his oldest nephew lay down right by his feet, almost lying on top of his toes as it was. It made him smile, happy no one could be watching him in the dark. “Quiet down now, the both of you. We all need our rest, all of us. There will be no none for anyone unless you two go right to sleep,” 

“What do you mean by that?” Kili spoke up, lying somewhere beyond his older brother, very close by. “We can stay quiet even when we're awake, uncle,” Those words even brought a chuckle up Thorin's throat but it came out more as a snort. 

“If you say so, Kili,” 

Before long at all, the both of them were snoring softly, side by side and Thorin could even imagine the boy's hands tangled together in the chilled air. He had always liked watching them when they thought no one saw. They were very close, always exchanging looks, smiles and encouraging pats on the back. Fili always kept his younger brother close, always defended him and kept him well fed. Thorin could see much of himself in that boy, just as he had felt towards his own brother, doing just what he would have done at any given moment. His thought wandered back to the day by the river, where Kili had almost drowned and Fili had not been able to sleep soundly until he knew for sure that is brother was alive and well. If his oldest nephew had the same sort of duty and loyalty towards his people, then a King greater than any other he would become. Thorin's biggest wish and mission, he thought as he reached out to gently pull his fingers through the younger's hair, was to keep these two boys safe until then. Without fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, i'm theo and i'm glad so many of you seem to be interested in this story! for fun i'll be posting a shorter extra chapter soon, that might be explaining some things to you all. i hope you will like that as well and that you'll stay with me through the heartache and the thorin feels! smooch


	4. Stubbornness of Dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stubborn [ˈstəbərn]  
> adjective  
> having or showing dogged determination not to change one's attitude or position on something, esp. in spite of good arguments or reasons to do so : _she accused him of being a silly, stubborn old man._  
>  • difficult to move, remove, or cure : _the removal of stubborn screws._  
>  If you're the kind of person who takes a stand and then refuses to back down, your friends might say you have a _stubborn_ disposition, a word that implies an innate resistance to any attempt to change one's purpose, course, or opinion.

2769 The Lonely Mountain, Erebor

“What are you doing here, cousin?” Thorin said and his voice sounded more awkward and cold than he might have wanted. He could see in the other dwarve's eyes that he had not taken it well, but for the moment, Thorin didn't care. “Do you not see how problematic this could have gotten if my brother had recognized you, dressed up as you are?” 

“But he did not, did he?” the other responded and took a daring step closer, pale grey eyes meeting Thorin's with not as much as a flinch. 

“No, thankfully so,” Thorin sighed back and broke eye contact, annoyed with himself for stirring beneath his cousin's gaze. When had he become so soft that the mere look of this dwarf made his knees weak and his heart throb twice its usual rate in his chest? “But why go through all this trouble just to be able to see me before tomorrow? You know I cannot stay here. My father, my brother, even our King is out there and any moment now they could be walking in here to see so that my brother wasn't lying about my illness?” 

“Then, with all due respect, Thorin, why are we still here?” 

Thorin felt his annoyance grow and he snort loudly at the other's words, pacing towards the crackling fire at one end of the room to the door at the other end, then back again. He could not believe his luck, still he was as angry now as he had been frightened of the anticipated fight earlier. What if they had seen him there? What if they had understood that something was going on? It would be one thing for his cousin to be found out; another entirely, in greater scale of things, for Thorin. His cousin wasn't only risking his own feelings, his family, status and home for this. He was also risking everything Thorin had ever built up for himself; his walls, his secrets, his feelings, all would fall apart with one ill step of this ridiculous dwarf. 

“This way,” Thorin eventually said shortly and stepped past his kinsman without giving him another look, opening a door to the right, stepping aside until the other had walked out before him. “We will have to take a different route than you normally would,” he then explained as they made their way down a narrow corridor, which brought them to a narrow stone staircase, winding down into a dark spiral shape before them. “Otherwise we pass your quarters, and I am pretty sure your son and wife would wonder why their man was dressed up as a servant, accompanying me, would they not?” 

“I suppose they would,” his cousin close to chuckled and as they both hurried down the winding staircase, Thorin felt his heart skip a beat by the feel of their hands suddenly touching without warning. The warm feeling quickly turned and fueled his annoyance instead. “But everything could be explained, rather simply in fact, if only...” 

“If only what, Fundin?” Thorin sighed angrily and turned in mid-movement, coming to a sudden halt, bringing them both chest to chest. Thorin lost his words but not his mind and looked away immediately. “If only we took our time and stopped to speak to them about this job as a servant you have applied for? By Aule, cousin, how much have you been drinking?” At this, he slowly stepped down the next stone step and was soon moving quickly again, trying not to care whether or not Fundin was keeping up with him. His cousin seemed to have been silenced by his words because he said nothing more until they were in the broad corridor that would take them to Thorin's quarters. 

“I never meant to put you in a vulnerable position,” Fundin then said and reached for Thorin's arm, as if to stop him. Thorin only gave him an immediate look which told him 'no' and they kept going. Was his cousin really such an ignorant person that he did not understand what his own actions might do to them both?

“Since you continue putting me in vulnerable position after vulnerable position, cousin, I have trouble believing that statement,” he mumbled as they arrived at one of the three entrances to his chambers, opening the door and looking around with attentive eyes to see if he could spot anyone close by. The corridor around them was empty and Thorin urged his cousin in through the open door without further delay. “There,” he then spoke up, a brighter tone of voice now that they were alone behind closed doors. “Now, dear cousin, I am not in such a vulnerable position anymore. Speak your mind,” 

Before Thorin even had time to walk his guest – if a slightly unwanted one – into the rest of his rooms, Fundin had with all his power shoved him against the nearest wall he could find, his hands against Thorin's hips and lips so close Thorin could smell the mead on him. He was shocked at fist, to find himself nailed like that to the cold stone but he quickly regained his pride. 

“That explains it then,” Thorin said bitterly and quickly shoved the older one off of him, superior in strength and hight as he was. “I bring you to my chambers to speak to you and this is what you do? Jump me when the first chance arrive? Don't be naïve, cousin, or I will call the guard on you,”

“I'm sorry...” was all the other mumbled and his head even seemed to hang from his shoulders in shame, as if he had been a dog. Thorin knew he wasn't sorry, not for real, but he was too tired to argue and only gave the dwarf a quick look before stepping passed him and into his sitting aria. There, he poured them a pint of mead each, from his personal reserve and seated himself in front of the crackling fireplace, keeping his still chilled feet close to the flames. 

“Come, Fundin,” he then nodded. “Sit.” 

They hadn't seen each other in months. The both of them had agreed that it would be for the best. Fundin had a family to protect and fend for, Thorin had his duties. Before they had agreed on that, Fundin had visited the kingdom often, until now when he had decided to move there with his wife and son. Thorin had liked it better when his cousin wasn't always around. He didn't feel he could control himself when being around him. Fundin made him feel things Thorin didn't accept about himself, things he couldn't show or allow himself to feel. Hence his rude behavior towards the man. He should know better by now. 

“What is on your mind?” Thorin finally asked, as it was obvious by their silence that his kinsman wouldn't speak up by himself. The dwarf looked up form the pint he was holding and seemed confused at first, before answering. 

“Isn't that obvious?” he asked bluntly and Thorin found himself struck by anger at his casual behavior towards him. Mostly, Thorin didn't enjoy it when other's called him by his titles. He didn't feel worthy of being anyone special, not when he was a disgrace to the entire kin without anyone but him and Fundin knowing so. But whenever this blunt, irresponsible child of a dwarf spoke to him, it was as if they were equals, as if they were closer than cousins. Thorin hated how good it made him feel that someone besides his siblings would see him for who he truly was. 

He sighed and rubbed his forehead slightly before looking back at the other, Fundin with his ridiculous dark hair and brows, his tattoos and his foolish little grin had always managed to strike emotion in Thorin's heart and soul that he didn't understand himself. 

“Fundin,” Thorin then said and tried to smile genuinely, but since he had to try to do it, it probably wasn't such a genuine smile to begin with. “I can't. You know I can't. I never should have told you about this, and I never should have let you be swept away by it. I have duties and responsibilities I have to handle and you have a wife and a child. Be happy with them, do not put your honor and life down for something, someone, that was never yours to begin with,”

“So it is decided, then?” Fundin replied, and for a drunk dwarf he seemed quite alert. “You will marry?” 

“No,” Thorin chuckled and shook his head. “No, not what I know of,” he then continued and felt a growing uneasiness in his gut. No, he wasn't supposed to marry yet, but the day would come when that would be a very real reality for him. He would have to face that day just like any other. And he couldn't have things like his 'friendship' with Fundin lying in the way of that. Those were the plans for the survival of their kingdom after all. He couldn't be selfish. 

“Then why not?” his cousin questioned and Thorin could see the pain in his eyes, even before his voice stabbed him like a sword in the chest. “Why can't you allow yourself to be with me? I have asked you more than once to let me serve you but you keep turning your back to me, Thorin. Do you _want_ to be alone? I am offering you someone to share your time with, your bed, your happiness? Does that not mean anything to you..?” 

“You speak of these things as if we weren't more than common folk?” Thorin reasoned plainly and brought the pint to his lips, but only taking a small sip from it, not at all feeling up to drinking anymore. “But we aren't, are we, Fundin? We cannot act as if no one would stop us? We cannot act as if our decisions and doings do not affect anyone but ourselves? I don't have the luxury of being selfish, and you know this,” 

“I do know this,” Fundin replied and got up from his chair, the mead spilling over his hand as he spoke, but he did not seem to notice himself. “But I also know that you want to be selfish in this, Thorin. You've told me so yourself! I know you could never care for me as you do for that other one, the one who married... But I know you cannot stop this, just as little as I can. It would break you from within,”

Thorin stood up immediately and placed his pint firmly on the table between them as he did so. He couldn't take this, not after the anxiety he had already had to tackle that day, and not since he had seen this man's child only moments ago. He had been daft not to notice who it was that had told him 'hello' in the hallway. But in his defense he mostly tried not to think of Fundin's family. It made it easier to betray their trust.

“Please, try not to tell me what I want, dear cousin,” he said as the mead in his pint had stopped behaving like a troubled ocean in its container and Thorin himself had taken a deep breath. “You do not know me half as well as you should like, it seems. Yes, I might have said those words in a weak moment, but I would never give up my right to the throne or my family just to make anything like that come true. It is nothing but selfish feelings which I should never have let out in the first place. Like I said, I do not have the luxury of being selfish. I'm not saying you do, but you certainly act the part. Now please, leave me. I have things to attend to.” With this he stepped over to open the main doors to his rooms but Fundin had other plans and grabbed him hard by the wrist as Thorin walked past. 

“If there is something you're not, it's weak,” he started and his dark eyes were wide awake now. It was as if the drunken dwarf was completely gone to reveal an entirely different one, a strong one that would do anything to get what he wanted, anything for him. “You do not have weak moments, Thorin, son of Thrain. That I know better than most. This stubbornness you show, the loyalty to your family and the pride you carry on your shoulders, they all come from within you, creating the dwarf I have fallen for. I know I mean close to nothing to you, but you did tell me once that if you could, you would run with me. Is that not still true? Even though you cannot run, I know it is impossible for you, but even so... did you not say those words to me, and did you not mean them?” 

Fundin then fell silent and his grip on Thorin's hand lessened. Thorin saw this as an opportunity and pulled his hand back, rubbing the wrist absentmindedly where the older's rough fingers had bruised it. He couldn't believe the words that were coming out of Fundin's mouth. He had said those things when he was broken and trembling, after the wedding it had been. He hadn't been well. And Fundin was wrong. Thorin wasn't strong, not at all as strong as this idiot of a dwarf seemed to believe. Thorin could seem worthy and true, but his heart always wavered and his mind always traveled far away form the duties he had to perform. He was not cut out for the loyalty of the court, but for his love of the forest and of something else which he hardly ever spoke off. 

He had felt blessed by Aule the day he realized he had a cousin who was somewhat like himself. He hadn't felt so alone anymore when Fundin first came to him. He had loved the way his cousin wouldn't judge him, how he wouldn't call him by any fancy names or do whatever he was told. But that had been then, back when Thorin was still naïve enough to believe that they could keep something like that a secret to everyone around them. Unfortunately that had changed now. '

“But I do have weak moments,” Thorin finally said and turned from his kinsman without another glance. His brows were wrinkled and his head had started throbbing more and more since he stood up. His wrist was nothing compared to the headache. “And I am not as strong as you believe. I _was_ weak when I told you those things, weak from grief and foolish obsession. And obviously, if I _could_ run from here I would, but there is nothing on this earth that would let me do so, so why do you keep any emotions attached to that claim? I was never yours, and you were never mine. You should have left me long ago, and I shouldn't have looked back,” 

Fundin moved in behind him then, Thorin could hear it before he felt warm arms enveloping him around the waist. He closed his eyes and let it happen, knowing it would only hurt them both, but also knowing Fundin enough to realize he wouldn't stop even if told. He was the most stubborn dwarf Thorin knew after all, never taking orders or following the rule book. Maybe that had been what drew Thorin to him in the first place? If not just sheer loneliness and stupidity. 

“Don't you fret, Thorin,” the older said and his breath was warm against Thorin's neck. Fundin didn't seem to mind at all to have his face filled with dark hair as he nuzzled into it to meet Thorin's skin with his lips. “I won't leave you, not in hundreds of years, give or take a few,” He paused to see if Thorin would at least smile but he was too busy closing his eyes and trying his damnedest not to enjoy the moment to realize Fundin had even made a joke. “It doesn't matter if you will never fully give yourself to me. I will always be yours, and you know this,” 

“And what of your family?” Thorin responded, still fighting against the softness of the other's touch and the warmth spreading thought his abdomen as Fundin pulled him close to his chest from behind. “What of your betrayal against them? What about the things you ask of me to keep hidden from my family and everyone else? Is it not easier to thank each other for this time we've shared and let it be what it has been? Call it a night and part as friends..?” 

“I could never again be only your friend,” the older replied patiently, very close to Thorin's ear now, so close he could feel his lips move against his skin as he spoke. “And I love my family. Who says I cannot still adore them while I am by your side? Who made these rules about families and traditions? They do not fit with how I feel about my family, nor how I feel about you,” 

Thorin sighed at this, at how naïve the other sounded. The laws and rules of a country were not so easily broken or changed only because one of its citizens did not feel they applied to them. He suspected Fundin knew this, but the older just never seemed to truly grasp the concept. 

“My ancestors made those rules, yours as well,” Thorin replied, even though that had probably been a rhetorical question. “And it does not matter how you feel about them...” 

“Yet it matters to me how I feel about _you_ ,” Fundin interrupted and he sounded more sure of himself than ever. His right hand had traveled up Thorin's chest and was resting above his heart, warm and safe he was, now that the alcohol had no strong hold of him any longer. Thorin closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the older's shoulder, half of him wanting to stay like that forever as the other half wanted to run and never look back. He was frightened, yet comfortably aware of the other's warmth and his soft lips still against his skin. Thorin couldn't run from this, no matter how hard he tried. It was as Fundin had said just now, he couldn't end it, not more than his cousin could. “I will do whatever it takes to earn my right to the place in here,” the older then continued and Thorin felt his fingers clutch at the tunic he was wearing, straight above his heart it must have been. “Whatever it takes Thorin, whatever the price may be,” 

“The price to my heart, Fundin?” 

“Yes, is that so strange?” the older replied again and this time he was smiling brighter, Thorin could tell by the sound of his voice. “That I would look for a way to enter your heart, no matter how much armor of Mithril you have in there to protect it with? Tell me Thorin, if you had found the most precious gem in all of Erebor but was afraid you would lose it to someone else one day, wouldn't you do anything to defend it, keep it safe and sound?” 

“I suppose I would,” Thorin replied and a slight grin spread across his face. He couldn't believe he was being referred to as a gem. Perhaps Fundin was still drunk after all. “But I wouldn't keep it locked up as my grandfather does with the Arkenstone.” he then added, cautiously. 

“Of course not,” his cousin assured and placed a gentle kiss upon Thorin's jawline, smiling as he was tickled by dark strands of his beard. “If I could, I would show it proudly to the world, you know I would. If it was to let me?” 

Thorin laughed at this and turned carefully to the left, looking back at the dwarf form over his shoulder with a raised brow and the grin still lingering on his face. 

“You speak of gems and precious stones,” he said then and felt like laughing even further. “As if they have a conscience of their own? As if they know what is best for them and what is proper?” Fundin grinned as well and leaned in now so close to Thorin that their noses touched – which was not at all as close as it could have been because Fundin's nose was larger than most. 

“This one does.” he then answered plainly and his lips were warm and soft as he placed them gently against Thorin's. Thorin chuckled but didn't pull away this time, no matter how frightened his own feelings made him. 

***

2941 Quest to the Lonely Mountain

Thorin pulled his knees tightly to his chest as he sighed and tried not too breathe in too much of the cold prison air at the time. His arse was sore and his fingers cold from the constantly dripping water, but at least he was well fed and didn't lack rest from the long trip. The kind Elven King Thranduil had been so very kind of presenting him with both food and a resting place, but he was not so kind as to tell Thorin anything about his friends being captured or still being lost in the woods. Thorin had begun to fear the worst where he sat in the darkness, his braids coming undone and all his former glory robbed off him, the sword, his armor, everything, even his pipe. 

“They were starving as I was captured,” he mumbled to himself and tried to pull the blanket closer around his shoulders, only to smell its dampness and feel it slowly soaking him more than the dripping water would have done. He didn't much care. “And it has been days since... how many I do not even know anymore.” He bent his head to rest his forehead to his knees, the cold spreading to his heart as he fought not to think further. “What if they're all gone?” 

He had conquered loss more times than one in his long life, but each time was always different from the times before. You never got used to it, no matter how many times it struck you down. He had believed, after loosing his grandfather, his brother, his lover, things could not get worse, that he would be able to withstand everything else thrown at him. He had apparently been wrong. The pain was at a shocking magnitude this time, not like the time Gandalf had spoken about his lost father, no, this was quite a different kind of shock. He had been calm until this moment, but now the cold was nothing compared to the aching in his chest and the burning sadness behind his eyes. He had never thought this would be a suicide mission, not for them all at least... he had known there might be casualties, after all, thirteen dwarves plus a wizard and a hobbit wasn't much against armies and dragons. But he had never thought in his wildest imagination that it would be starvation that would rob his brave friends of their lives. They were supposed to die in the field, proud, like the Kings of old... not in some thick wood with bellies shrinking day by day and throats so dry they couldn't even sing anymore. Not like this. 

The faint memory of Frerin's warm smile, his comforting words as the nights had grown darker and the food more scarce on their long journey from the Mountain, came flooding his mind and Thorin desperately hit his forehead against his hard knees. Sometimes he still missed his brother so much that he could hear his voice in the mornings, waking him up and for a moment he was always sure it had all been a terrible nightmare and that he was back in Erebor with the roaring fire by his feet and that Frerin's loving grin would meet him as soon as he looked up. The striking pain of the truth always broke him down on those mornings, worsening his mood and his appetite. It was on mornings like those, which was every other day by now, that he trimmed his beard again. He was still in mourning. 

He had been crying over his brother's death, his grandfather's as well, when the news had reached him of the death of his cousin, who left behind him two young boys and a sick wife. Thorin had done what he could for Fundin's family, wishing them all the best of luck, as he mourned their husband and father, his lover in silence. In one way, it had been a good thing he had others close to him that he mourned back then, it meant it wasn't at all that suspicious for him to cry over the cousin he was hardly related to. Thorin had hated himself for thinking such things, but how else could he possibly justify crying himself to sleep over the death of a man who had shared his bed in secret for close to thirty years..? 

“Pst, Thorin?” 

Someone had said his name and Thorin's head flew up in confusion, he knew that voice but he couldn't place it. He looked around in the cell, feeling daft suddenly when he remembered where he was and that he couldn't possibly have heard a voice in there. But just as he returned to his crouched position, the voice sounded again from outside the door, and this time, he knew who it was. 

“Mr Baggins?” 

“I've come to rescue you!” The hobbit's bright voice whispered through the small hatch in the door but as Thorin approached it, he saw no one. But the sound of that small voice was like music to his ears and his warmth immediately returned to him. The fact that Bilbo was alive meant that the others might be as well. He couldn't wait to see their faces again, hear his nephews laugh close to him in the dark, see his friends smiling back at him with unwavering courage, to see the ones he loved so dearly, alive and well side by side.

“My brave Hobbit!” Thorin smiled though the crack in the door and nodded in appreciation. He would remember this, the courage the small creature had shown, the plan he most certainly already had since he was already talking about salvation. He wouldn't doubt the small one a second more of his life. Thorin would be deeply indebted to him, happily so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked this little extra chapter and still look forward to the continuation of the story! happy easter everyone!


	5. Greed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> greed [grēd]  
> noun  
> The inordinate desire to possess wealth, goods, or objects of abstract value with the intention to keep it for one's self, far beyond the dictates of basic survival and comfort. It is applied to a markedly high desire for and pursuit of wealth, status, and power.

There is much to be said about the race of Dwarves and their comings, goings and activities in the darkness of their mighty mountains. But the thing which angered Thorin Oakenshield most, was the one word he heard said in the same sentence as the mentioning of his own people more often than talks of food and drink. The word was greed. There had long been tales of the greed of Dwarves and how easily they were corrupted with shining gold and treasures, as if they were magpies waiting outside the window by a rich King to come and steal his jewelry away. Thorin had never been more cross with the race of Men than when they bundled his kin together with the Dwarves of old, whom had sacrificed their lives for their need to obtain more gold. He had never in his life agreed on calling himself, his family or even his distant relatives greedy. If you were to ask the prince of Erebor, he knew no one who would ever fit the description of greed himself.

2941 Quest to the Lonely Mountain   
The Lonely Mountain 

“So it is here I find you, sitting on a pile of treasure looking grumpy?” 

Thorin fought the urge to look up at his friend as he was spoken to and poked at the golden coins covering his boot with a rough finger without responding. Dwalin must have had to look for him for quite some time before finding him amongst the seemingly endless piles of jewels and the gold, but his old friend was a stubborn individual and if he wanted something done or found, he wouldn't give up before a mission was completed. Thorin could feel the younger dwarf stop, right behind him, instead of seating himself. He chose not to even bother thinking about why that was. 

“We have come all this way,” Dwalin then started up again and he sounded patient for once, almost as if he expected Thorin to react with a child's temper. “And here you are with wrinkled brows and your mind far off somewhere. Tell me Thorin, why won't you let us into that troubled mind of yours? We could probably help you, you know. And your nephews are worried for you...”

“There is nothing to worry about,” Thorin answered, realizing to late that he might have sounded angry, even though his old friend had done nothing to enrage him. “I am fine, just as they are. I just need to clear my head. There is, after all, an entire army of Elves outside our gates and if they do not draw back, bad things will follow.”

“It doesn't have to end badly, Thorin,” his friend sighed and put a large hand on Thorin's shoulder, warming him from the inside out even though that was a sensation Thorin had learned to ignore long ago. This was the worst time and place imaginable for this. “They want a share, that's all. If you give it to them...”

“Why would I?” Thorin snapped quickly and scrambled to his feet in such a hurry that he almost slipped down the slope of gold. The place where Dwalin's hand had just been was close to aching with the loss of his warmth, but that had been the point of getting up. “Why would I, the rightful King of Erebor, give them of my gold without them doing anything for me?! I have fought through dragon flame and famine to be able to stand where we're standing today, you know that, you were with me! So how on earth can you expect me to give them of our treasure out of the goodness of my heart, Dwalin, when they have only done me wrong?”

“You know just as well as me that that isn't true,” Dwalin objected and the patience was gone from his voice. He was like a thunderstorm, Dwalin son of Fundin, whenever he got angry or in any other way upset. He had inherited that from his father, no doubt, and their likeness had always pained Thorin in the deepest of ways. “Those Men out there, do not forget they were the ones who fed us when we were tired and wet, who gave us ponies and supplies before we ventured into the wasteland between their town and this mountain! Do not forget it, because they will not! If they hadn't helped us, apparently Smaug would not have destroyed their homes and killed their people! We owe them, Thorin Oakenshield, and the Dwarf I used to know would have gladly aided those who desperately needed his help!”

“And what of the Elves with them?” Thorin spat and shook his head at the younger's words, wanting them out of mind as quickly as possible. He owed nothing to none of those threatening to storm his newly reclaimed home, and he didn't need to hear this from Dwalin of all people. 

“The Elves are prideful buffoons at most, but they do not care for our safety anymore than we do for their's,” Dwalin answered and he was still calm, even though his outburst earlier had made the hairs at the back of Thorin's neck stand up unpleasantly. “But it wasn't the Elven King that asked for aid or lost his home, the people of the Lake did. You might have been spending too much time with this gold, old friend, it is clouding your judgement, making you greedy and unjust!” 

“No,” Thorin hissed but his word was clear, almost echoing through the great hall with its rolling hills of treasure and gold. “I warn you Dwalin, we have been friends for a long time, I knew your father well, but do not think that my affection for him in a past life will stop me from striking you to the ground for disrespecting me. The last thing I am is greedy, ask anyone in these halls, ask yourself! Was I greedy when I led our people to safety even in exile? Was I greedy when I spent hours and hours in hard labor to make sure your family didn't starve when your mother was sick from giving birth to you? Was I greedy when-..”

“This is pointless,” Dwalin interrupted suddenly and Thorin was immediately aware of the fact that his own cheeks were flushing. He was the King now, was he not? Hadn't all of them agreed on that? And still Dwalin was the only one who still treated him as if he was nothing more than an annoying dwarfling with a temper tantrum. The thought made his blood boil and his heart grow cold, which was the strangest concept his body had ever introduced him to. “There is no point talking to you when you're denying everything I am saying being true. Be sure to ponder their request, Thorin, King under the Mountain, because if harm comes to any of us, I am sure you will realize your guilt before the end of this mess.” The younger had now pulled away and even started walking up the golden slope, back towards the other's, before Thorin had time to react more than by falling silent. 

“What is that supposed to imply?” Thorin spat back and felt his eyes sting as the broad back of the other moved further away from him. Since when was this what they had become? Dwalin had always been faithful to him, always followed his lead, from infancy to adulthood. There was nothing him and his brother hadn't done for him, yet now, Thorin knew the look of disappointment in both Dwalin and Balin's faces whenever they looked back at him. He had only done what he saw best for them all. Those Men outside their gates might be entitled to some of the gold in the halls of the great Mountain, after all, Bard had slain the dragon and their homes had been destroyed in the process... but to come onto them with armors on and banners flying, accompanied by the very enemy that had imprisoned both Thorin and the rest of his men, expecting them to give up a twelfth of the wealth of Thorin's grandfather under threat..? How could Dwalin not see why Thorin had been upset about their demands? Or was this about something else entirely? 

“It means that you have made a mistake, and all our lives will rest on whether or not you make amends for that mistake.” Dwalin's voice was cold as he spoke now and he looked back at his king from over his shoulder, eyes narrowed and fists visibly clenching into fists before Thorin's eyes. “We all followed you this far, Thorin, because we trust you as our leader and King. But if you fail us now, it will be our lives on the line for a greedy dwarf who cares more for his wealth and the legacy of his grandfather, than those of his kin still drawing breaths.” 

“That isn't true,” Thorin replied and shook his head, taking a step closer to the other but his foot slipped ungraciously and as he staggered to the side, he saw Dwalin stir for a split second, almost as if wanting to hurry to his side in case Thorin was to fall for real. But the moment was gone as soon as Thorin was back steadily on his feet and the younger turned his head away once more. “You know that isn't true,” Thorin then continued, hurriedly so that Dwalin wouldn't go away just yet. “I would not want to be in this position with any other dwarves than those who are with me now, you know this better than anyone. There aren't more admirable dwarves anywhere on earth and-..” 

“I've heard this one before,” Dwalin interrupted once again and even raised one hand into the air, as if to shut him up the same way Thorin's grandfather had done when he was a young lad, too loud for the late King's taste. “You believe that I will think higher of your decision to send an arrow at the message boy before, only because you praise those who followed you here? I know we are all admirable and brave, but we have been fools if we followed you blindly all the way here to be starved out by mere Men and Elves. Don't you see what your actions have caused?”

Thorin could not find words this time and that fact angered him more than the messenger had done earlier. He had done what was best for their kin and had that not given them Erebor back? Yes, there was an army outside their walls, but they had come to take their gold, and not to aid them. Was he the only one who saw them for the threat they posed, and not for the broken people they pretended to be. Apparently the Elven King had found a reason for aiding them, instead of aiding the company when they had come stumbling, starving through the forest. Why should he, the King, share his newly reclaimed riches with anyone who dared threaten his honor and his right to all of it?

“Some of the others might agree with your decision not to even consider handing that share over to that man out there,” Dwalin continued when Thorin did not respond. His back was still turned and it half sounded as if he was speaking through clenched jaws. “But some of us worry that the gold might have gone to your head, Thorin, the way it did the last King who dwelt here.” The mentioning of Thror in this way brought the redness back to his cheeks but Dwalin was not done and the insults Thorin had been prepared to cast upon his former lover's own son were shoved back down into his throat. Maybe for the best. “I know you do not like to talk about what happened here back in the day when Thror ruled this kingdom, but we all know what happened to his mind as these treasures started piling up in here. You might not be him, but the same blood flows through your veins and if you are not careful, the same sickness will take you as well... And I would hate for that to be your downfall.” 

“I would never-..!” 

“Oh yes but you would, that is the whole point!” Dwalin exclaimed. Apparently his boiling point had been reached as well, because he flung around on the spot and sent golden coins rolling down the hill where they stood. “I never thought this of you, because all my life I have known a kind and honest dwarf in you, Thorin, a dwarf that would rather make sure his siblings were safe than treat his own injuries after a battle, a dwarf that was everything but greedy and would take his frightened nephews in his arms and tell them stories of the wonders of Erebor, so that they would not be afraid of dragons or orcs in the night. But I see now in you a dwarf that has forgotten what it was like without food and fresh water to drink, he has sunken so far into his obsession that he has forgotten the pain of burying his own family and his own lover! I never thought the great Thorin Oakenshield, the one I would have trusted with my own life, would ever sink this low, but you have! And I refuse to let you be the death of anyone else in our family!” 

Dwalin's words were worse than being stabbed by a blade in the chest and Thorin could only blink slowly as he tried to process what he had just heard. So Dwalin knew..? That was what first struck him like the first blow to the abdomen, a gush of cold sweat breaking out across his brows and neck. Balin must have let it slip, thankfully Dwalin was not the dwarf to tell on another, unless he was properly agitated and Thorin hoped that was not the case now. The last part of the younger's angry outburst was what had struck hardest against him though and as his words formed meaning in Thorin's mind, his body shook with a terrible tremor of shock. 

“What are you saying..?” he asked, his voice not at all as strong as he wanted it to be, not as demanding as the voice of a king in his own halls; it was trembling. 

“You heard me the first time, didn't you?” Dwalin close to grinned but it wasn't a grin Thorin had ever wanted to see directed towards himself. The look on his friend's face gave him chills of fright and he could not fight the urge to back one step away before Dwalin spoke again. “I do not care for the affection you had towards my father, or whatever he felt towards you. I will respect it, because it was a choice my father made, but if it had not been for his loyalty towards you, following you into battle when it was doomed to cost more than anyone had informed him of, he would not have died. You know this better than anyone. My brother follows you with the same conviction as our father did, but with another kind of loyalty, I am sure. I will not see him make the same mistake my father did, just as I will not see anything happen to those boys of your sister's. They worry too, you know. But they would follow you wherever you went, whatever you told them to do, they would do it. If anything happened to any of us, you would be entirely responsible and I warn you, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, you change your mind about this entire ordeal, or I promise you, there will be more than grief to pay for the battle that follows your greed and stubbornness.” 

“How dare you even suggest that I will bring such destruction upon our company?!” Thorin managed to exclaim and his voice was stronger this time. Still, before he had even the slightest chance to pull another breath and shout some more, Dwalin had cut him off with his hands flung out his sides and his eyes wide in something that looked more like rage than anything else. 

“How dare I?” was what he said and Thorin fought hard not to back away further. “How dare I?! Fili was the one who brought this up with me, did you know that? He was the one who came to me, in worry of your health, Thorin! He knows you better than anyone and he sees the signs I see. So how dare YOU question my reasons for bringing you this warning, when it was your own nephew who came in fright to me?” 

“Fili..?” Thorin close to gasped and was lost in his own confusion for longer than he had thought possible when being this angry. “Fili went behind my back and-..?” 

“And what Thorin, _betrayed_ you?!” his friend exclaimed even more furiously and was now stepping closer to his king as he spoke. “Are you even listening to yourself?! Are you thinking before you're speaking? Or are you simply ignoring every word that comes out of my mouth?!” When Thorin couldn't find anything to say in reply to that within the split second it took for Dwalin to draw a deep breath, the younger continued, just as intensively as before. “You were just about to call Fili a traitor, Thorin! Your own nephew, your heir, the little boy you brought with you on this quest, whom you promised you'd keep out of harms way! Did you realize that when you said it? Did you realize that instead of understanding what my point was, instead of admitting that maybe you've been greedy and selfish... you'd rather mark your own next of kin as a traitor to the King under the Mountain, because he came to an older friend for advice..?”

“I didn't mean to-..” 

“But you did, Thorin, you did.” Dwalin interrupted once more but his voice had lost some of the rage and his brows were wrinkled as he slowly turned away, back towards the large doors from which he had entered the great hall. “It's your pride that shatters your judgement, Thorin, and your greed that will be the death of us all... But most of all I fear for your life and what will happen to you once everyone else is spent.” 

“I would never let that happen, you know that!” 

“I used to know that,” the younger nodded in reply but he had already lowered his head, almost as if he was about to give up. “Now I'm not so sure anymore.” 

Thorin didn't know at all what to say as he watched the other leave. He was furious with himself for even coming close to thinking something as horrible as that about Fili, about any of those in his company of dwarves. But still, he was even more furious of the fact that Dwalin had not only pointed out flaws in him which he had not admitted existed himself, but also because Dwalin was more than right. He had kept his eyes shut to his own greed as he searched for the Arkenstone, threatening his own friends by the mere thought of any of them keeping the stone for himself. He knew them, most of them he had known since before they could walk, with exception for the hobbit and the wizard, but the hobbit he trusted with his life and the wizard was no longer amongst them. His judgement had been clouded but he knew now that of course none of them would ever withhold the stone of his house, the treasure of the King, the heart of the mountain, from him. He felt strange now as he stood upon the hills of all the gold Smaug had horded and used for a bed, knowing that much of it might not be his by the end of this quest. But of course, that had always been the case anyway, seeing as all of his friends would of course get an equal share.. what had he even been thinking, refusing to aid those who needed this gold the most? He needed everything to be put right, and that quickly. 

“Thank you...” he mumbled as the doors slammed shut behind his old friend's back. Dwalin was better at striking sense into others than what he gave himself credit for. Maybe that was the sort of work that would suit him best? Maybe advisory of the King? If he would accept of course, when all this was over. 

 

2770 The Lonely Mountain, Erebor

For quite some time, Thrain, son of Thror, the King under the Mountain, had worried for his father's wellbeing. He had legitimate reason for this, even though it was nothing spoken off with others, after all, it would have been deemed treason only to whisper about it in your own bedroom. The King had long been collecting riches with an almost obsessive mindset and his halls were filling up quickly with golden armor, gems and jewels, coins and things that didn't possess names but were worth more than the entire city of Dale. Everyone close to the King knew what dangers could follow with a sickness of the mind, which was what the King had, and all knew what disasters a treasure like that hidden in their halls could bring upon them. Yet, Thror was refusing council on this matter and Thrain had grown silent in his worry for the welfare of both family and kingdom, leaving his own oldest son oblivious to the true state of his grandfather, which somehow seemed to suit the young prince well.

There was a faint smell of iron in the air about him, the full guard out and the squeaking of their armor filling the halls of his grandfathers as Thorin walked down the corridor, alone and unafraid. He had been successfully hiding his own emotions, his desires and his amusement towards his lover from everyone around him for quite some time now and his life had never been more perfect. Of course, it would have been much more perfect if he had been able to ignore the desires of his body and heart and focus more on the respectability at hand, such as the desires of his King for his attendance to dinners and royal business. However, Thorin had for once in his life decided not to care. For three days now he had behaved like the child he still was, or at least should have been had he not been born royal and heir to the throne of Erebor. The turning point had come on the day him and Frerin had been forced to stay inside even thought they had been promised the morning off. Thorin had not shown his annoyance then, but he had since not been as alert during meeting as had been expected of him and not even greeted his grandfather 'good morning' at breakfast. For him, this was a big step towards a more independent future, even though the future did not seem as bright as it somehow had seemed before. There was no reason right now, for him to behave like the King he might become one day, because that day was so far off into the future that he could hardly see it clearly anymore. 

“Brother!” his sister called from behind him and he turned to face her, smiling brightly as he caught her running into his arms and lifted her into the air on strong shoulders. She laughed happily, as only a child can laugh and then reached out to rest a soft little hand against his bearded chin. “Where are you off to?” she proceeded to ask innocently and her cheeks were already flushed from the run. “I thought Father sent for you? The King wanted you present in the hall, he's expecting company from the Elves!” She was overly excited and her face was shining in the biggest smile as he pulled her to his chest, carrying her so that she was at least a head taller then him. The sight made him warm inside, even though she had obviously been forced against her will into the colorful dress she was wearing.

“I did get the message but I have decided to ignore its meaning,” he answered then and placed a soft kiss on her thumb, eyes meeting hers as she looked down in surprise at him. To her, Elves were exotic and thrilling. She had never before been old enough to attend a meeting with them and this would probably be her first time, now that he thought about it. Of course she wouldn't understand his decision. “I have other things to do and...” 

“But who will hold my hand?” she immediately interrupted and gave his chest a hard punch with her fist, her temper she had inherited from their grandfather no doubt. “You said you'd always be there and hold my hand whenever I get scared or bored? Well, the elves will probably bore me to death brother and your hand will be the only thing to keep my from dying! You can't fail me now, okay? I have an entire life to live I don't want to waist it because you decided to go off on your own while I have to do my duty as the Princess of Erebor!” She had always been very good at persuasion, and also at making him laugh. He did so now and gently kissed her chin before he let her back down on the ground and grabbed her hand firmly. 

“Yes, alright,” he then said and shook his head at her firm facial expression. “In that case there is something I must do first, before I can come. I suggest you run along so that you're not late for the meeting, and I will join you in a couple of minutes.” At this she looked displeased and shook her head, her small brows wrinkling underneath her well kept, braided bangs.

“No,” she stated firmly. “I don't trust you. You'll only run off while my back is turned and I will have none of that! I'll have to come with you and make sure that you behave.” 

She was stubborn as few but he loved her for it and could not at all say no, no matter how hard he may have tried. Eventually he gave in and nodded once in agreement before leading her off down the hall. She spoke happily as they walked, about what she would do when she saw the Elves and how she thought they'd find her charming because of her jewelry and her sweet appearance, something that made her want to rip it all off. All Thorin could think of was what would meet her when they stepped into his rooms but he couldn't much force her to stay behind in the corridor now, could he?

“Will you wait out here for me?” he asked kindly as they reached the large doors to his rooms, the one place he could still be himself, no matter how much he sometimes detested that part of him. “Please, sister, I will only be a moment.” 

“You have three other doors,” she immediately protested and shook her head. “You will run from me, I know it.” 

He sighed and gave up once more, she was right to suspect him but not for the reasons she believed. He opened the door as noisily as possible and hoped the sound would be heard to his bedroom and the other rooms as well, wishing with every fiber in his body that the one inside would have time to look less improper, if he had been anything but proper before them entering. Thorin smiled down at his sister as they walked through the small hallway and she grinned back, gripping his hand tightly as if wanting to stop him from running away still. He rolled his eyes fondly. She must be stubbornness itself.

“Hello?” he called as he pushed on the door leading into the bedroom and only grinned at her surprised expression. He seldom had guests in his rooms, what she knew of anyway, and it was even rarer that he let them stay in there when he was out. “I'll have to go to the meeting anyway...” Thorin then continued and looked around, seeing Fundin emerge from behind the dressing screens at the corner of his eye. He was fully dressed, thankfully. 

“Oh?” the older grinned and waved at the surprised princess at Thorin's feet. She didn't seem to recognize him at first but soon smiled and waved back. “That's a shame, I was looking forward to that game of cards, but I suppose if duty calls...” 

“It does,” Thorin grinned back and quickly hurried over to his clothes, changing into more suitable ones rapidly before his sister was to start asking questions to whether their cousin was in his room. “Duty always calls, even for you, cousin.” 

“I've never heard it call?” Fundin chuckled back and leaned back against the bed side, watching Dis in all her glory, standing over by the doors still, as if afraid of coming close to them. 

Thorin didn't respond to his lover's remark and chose not to acknowledge his existence for now. He worried instead about how Dis would interpret this new discovery and if she would tell anyone about it. He hoped she wouldn't, but there was a big risk she might. It was one thing to tell someone she had seen Fundin in his room, another thing entirely if the person she told was to understand what was truly happening. Dis was still nothing more than a dwarfling, and most others would naturally assume Thorin and Fundin had been spending time together as kinsmen and friends... if it had not been for the fact that Thorin never acknowledged his cousin's presence when he was out and about. Suddenly inviting Fundin to his rooms would seem strange for a dwarf of his stature.

He looked back at his sister, who was still looking puzzled behind him. She looked stunning in her dress, but not at all like the sister he knew her as. He smiled a little and forgot about his plan to be the cold prince he had been until a couple of days ago, as Fundin walked up to him and reached out to help him with his clothes. The older was much bolder than Thorin had ever been, even though he had an entire family to lose because of what they were doing, possibly more than his family if Thorin thought more about it. There was no telling what would happen if their doings came out to his father or the King himself. Thorin knew of nothing like this, but he was quite sure there would be punishment enough for them. 

“Should I wait until you come back?” his cousin asked softly, at least he tried to keep the question down. Thorin wasn't at all sure how long it would take. He might not be back for hours, but refusing Fundin the rest would only make him sound cruel. They had been together all hours of the day, for three days more or less, and Thorin had not let his royal duties come in between them. He didn't want to put Fundin in an awkward position where the other felt left behind by Thorin's own choices. 

“That is up to you,” he replied and shot his lover a short smile before strapping the new golden belt around his waist firmly. “I will probably try and make it quick, but it could still take a couple of hours. I could always come back to fetch you when it is done?” Fundin seemed alright with this and as soon as he was done, Thorin led both his sister and their cousin out of his rooms. He was nervous that she would see the look in Fundin's eyes, because she knew what love looked like, and the affection in his cousin's eyes was so clear sometimes that it made Thorin uncomfortable. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the feelings Fundin had for him, or the love and care that he brought into Thorin's life when everyone else seemed to focus on nothing but his duties and the fact that he was far from a perfect prince of Erebor. It was just hard for him to understand how he could ever carry on with their secrets and their games for much longer, and knowing that breaking them up would be worse for Fundin than dying, that made Thorin uncomfortable... mostly because he knew it would happen, sooner or later. Word would get out, and soon they would find themselves pulled far apart from each other, both of them broken and scared.

“I will see you by the time you get back then?” 

Fundin's voice was soft against Thorin's ear as he leaned in against him and there wasn't enough time to react to the older's movement before Fundin had planted a soft kiss against his temple. Dis was looking away and probably didn't have time to see this public display of affection but Thorin still jerked his head quickly to the side and gave his cousin a firm eye before taking yet another step further away from him. 

“I...” he started to respond but gave a small smile as he felt his sister grip a firm hold of his hand. She was so strong, the little one. “Yes, I'll be back later.” 

Dis didn't say much as the walked down the hallways in rapid speed. She seemed to be thinking deeply and Thorin wondered for a while whether she was suspecting anything. Frerin hadn't when he had been out hunting together with the both of them, but he was older after all and wouldn't at all think in those terms when spending time with his big brother. Frerin heard enough talk about potential women for Thorin to think that that was what was considered normal, which was actually correct. Their dear sister, on the other hand, might not have gotten her mind so easily set on those things yet, she was harder to convince he had realized. 

“Why did you rather decide to be with our cousin than go to the meeting?” was the first thing she said to break the silence between the two of them, after they had walked more than half the way back through the corridors. “You always used to go to the meetings and you always seemed to like them so much? You haven't made grandfather very happy by staying away, I heard father say...” 

“I have been feeling unwell lately,” Thorin quickly interrupted and gave a soft smile as he looked down to meet Dis's eyes. She looked worried and her brows wrinkled immediately after he'd spoken, which made him continue, reassuringly. “I'm quite alright, sister. I just felt a needed some time off, so that I wouldn't make anyone else sick. How good do you think it would have been if I made the king of the Elves sick when they came to visit?” 

At this she giggled, but her worry didn't quite leave her face. They walked some more, in silence and he could feel her hand grip his harder. He knew she would ask awkward questions one day, but if she did so this day, he would not be ready to answer them. He would have to hide them from her with lies and smiles. The worst part about that was that she would provably believe him. She might be the only person he knew that wouldn't hate him for who he was, solely because she was too young to know better. 

“But if you're sick, why were you going to play cards with cousin Fundin?” she eventually asked, but they were drawing closer to the large hall by now, and he knew that she would stop asking then, and probably forget all about what she had been meaning to ask. 

“I felt lonely,” he half lied and tried to remember if he had ever told anyone in his family how lonely he had always felt. “And Fundin was not invited to the meeting, so I invited him to have someone to keep me company today. I was just running to get some food into me, it was on the way back from eating that you caught me.” 

She seemed satisfied with this answer, because she smiled and nodded, her small hand tightening its grip around his rough fingers. “Good,” she said and looked towards the doors before them. “I'm glad you're feeling a bit better now, brother.”

“I am,” he lied and nodded, even though she wasn't looking anymore. “Try to focus on the elves now, I'm more than sure they'll be to your amusement.” 

Before she could reply to this, if she had even planned to do so, the doors were opened before them by guards of unknown identity and the great hall was revealed to them. Thorin knew immediately that they were later than was accepted, but he pretended that was not the case and waved discretely at Frerin, who was standing over on the other side of the large hall. He hoped their grandfather wouldn't notice their arrival until Dis was out of the way, she didn't need to get scolded the first time she was allowed to join in on one of these things. Their brother seemed to get the wink and hurried over to them through the crowd. Apparently the Elves had not arrived yet and Thorin breathed out quickly, getting a scolding was one thing, having the King loose his cool in front of the Elf King himself was an entirely different matter. Thorin did not want to be the cause of such disgrace. 

“Thorin!” their father suddenly called and in a brisk moment, Frerin had lifted their sister into his arms and was off with her towards some of his friends. His plan was good and solid, Dis had always loved speaking with the servants and that might keep her distracted from the yelling that would most definitely take place. 

“Father,” Thorin replied calmly and bowed his head down. He knew he did not at all look as presentable as he should, but his excuse was that he had dishonored the King and should not get to stand beside him for at least a week or two. He was just about to say this, raising his head to meet his father's furious eyes, when the stroke of Thrain's hand shook him to his core and left a burning red mark across his cheek. 

“You ignorant imbecile of a son, I should have you thrown out on the street!” his voice roared and even Dis was not spared the fright and silence that followed. Thorin had brought a hand to his face in chock, his skin pounding, bruising beneath his beardline as he looked back at his father, eyes glossy without his own permission. “How dare you show your face here? After what you've done?” As he spoke, Thrain raised another hand and Thorin felt his entire body shy away, instinctively.

“Father!” Frerin called from where he stood with their sister, his eyes were as big as Dis's and Thorin was sure if he had had the time, Frerin would have been right there to take the blow for him. But he was too far away and he had their sister to worry about. 

“Thrain, leave it.” 

A large hand had been placed on Thrain's shoulder and their father's hand sank down to his side. Thorin quickly averted his eyes, knowing that something must have slipped, someone must have seen, someone must have told... This could not only be the rage of Thorin being gone for days, he had been right there in his chambers, if his father had been furious with him for not attending the dinners and meetings then he could have stormed right to his door and shouted at him there. But he hadn't. Which must mean his father knew he would be met by something so repulsive if he stormed into Thorin's rooms that he had hindered himself from doing so. Now when the strong voice of his grandfather had spoken, Thorin felt utterly exposed, frightened and cold down to his bones. He knew that if Thror himself wanted to take care of the scolding, it would be much worse than if his father had done so. 

“Thorin,” the older dwarf started and Thorin quickly shit his eyes and bowed even lowed with his head, which he had not thought possible until the right forced it on him. 

“Yes, my King.” he managed to answer at least and he could feel the silence creep in beneath his robes and chill him even more. Everyone was listening, everyone was holding their breaths.

“Do you know why we have requested you be here today?”

“Yes, my King.” he answered again and this time his throat felt so dry that he thought he might suffocate. If only everyone else had had the decency to move away, to start speaking to each other and try to forget what was taking place before them. Thorin dared to open his eyes, knowing that they could not be seen from where his grandfather was standing. He could see his father's feet, half turned away from him, as if not wanting to watch what would happen, just as little as Thorin wanted to know what was about to take place himself. 

“Then you also know that you have made me personally very disappointed in your actions,” the King continued and Thorin could hear him bend down, feel his grandfather's beard brush against his head and cheek, smell the alcohol on his breath as he close to whispered the rest. “And I do not want to have remind you, that you are not at all important to this kingdom, and if you keep behaving like this, I will personally make sure that you are thrown out and sent into exile. Am I making myself clear?” 

“Very clear, my King...” Thorin replied and he felt the shame rise in his chest as his first tears fell. They knew. He was sure that they knew. Staying away from meetings did not get you sent into exile. But what he had been doing the last couple of days might as well do so. “I am truly sorry for my disrespectful behavior...” 

“I do not want to hear your words of guilt, nephew,” the King under the Mountain stated clearly, and his voice had a deeper tone to it, one that reminded Thorin of how he sounded when he was truly mad with rage, even though now he was still whispering. “You are shameful and should not get the chance to stand by my side and represent me as my heir, after your father, that is. But seeing how you have treated your royal duties these past couple of weeks, I think a bit of discipline will only be good for you, would you not agree? Come stand by me, but remember this; every time you find pride in your family, in your status as a prince of Erebor, every time you dress in the clothes I have had made for you, every time you eat the meals that you share with me because of your birthright, know that I wish death upon you before you get the chance to claim this throne as your own and have what is mine.”'

“Yes, my King.” 

 

2941 Quest to the Lonely Mountain   
The Lonely Mountain

“Take him, if you wish him to live; an no friendship of mine goes with him.” Thorin spoke grimly and there was a deafening noise in his ears, close to consuming all other sounds. He could feel the ground shake beneath him, even though no one else seemed to notice. He saw in the corner of his eye how Dwalin stirred, hand on the hilt of his axe and Balin was looking the other way, confused and upset. He could not see either of his nephews close by, which might be for the best. The hobbit was standing before him on top of the wall they had built by the entrance to their kingdom, and the little creature seemed as calm as ever, no nerve in his body, even a smile on his face. The mere sight of him sickened Thorin to an extent he could not even comprehend and he was so close to smashing his fists into those pearly whites that his entire body was shaking. “Get down to your friends!” he then said to Bilbo but his own voice sounded muffled, as if he heard someone else speaking from far away. “Or I will throw you down.”

The hobbit didn't move, which was only one reason why Thorin felt hi blood boil even hotter. The little thief had stolen the Arkenstone. He had stolen the stone of the King and instead of just hiding it for a while and eventually coming clean about it, he had gone to the ELVES and handed it over as if it had been a piece of bread. The little rat had then snuck back into Thorin's kingdom and acted as if he was still a part of their company. No debt of life could make amends for what the wrenched creature had done. He had betrayed Thorin by stealing the most valuable, the thing Bilbo knew Thorin had been looking for ever since they stumbled upon all the gold in those halls. But the worst betrayal was that Thorin had actually been lead to believe that Bilbo could be trusted, he owed him his life and now he couldn't even look the creature in the eyes. Gandalf had been in on it too, apparently, which didn't make matters better. Maybe this had been the wizard's plan all along... he should never had trusted any of them. 

“What about the gold and silver?” the hobbit now asked and Thorin was brought back to reality, his heart hammering hard against his chest and his breath rapid, hurting his throat. How dared he speak like that? As if he was merely asking about the weather, as if he had done nothing wrong? Just like he had sounded a moment earlier, when admitting that he had stolen the stone because he wanted it for himself. 

“That will follow after, as can be arranged.” Thorin answered, his throat dry and his words cold. The dreadful noise against his eardrums threatened to take him over and he could hardly breathe. He had never truly thought ill of Bilbo Bagins, this was apparently his reward for that. “Get down!” 

“Until then, we keep the stone.” the Man said, but Thorin did not look at him. He did not care of this Bard and his relations to the former king of Dale. This Man stood before the gates of Erebor with a traitor and a deceitful wizard as his companions, not to mention the elves. His end would come one day too, Thorin was sure. And then that man would wish he had not trusted traitors and murderers. 

“You are not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain,” Thorin could hear Gandalf say from amongst the crowd below, but his eyes couldn't make him out anymore. He felt dizzy and his hands shook. Was he truly losing his mind..? “But things may change yet.” 

“They may indeed.” Thorin replied through gritted teeth and flashes of him and his cousin Dain from the Iron Hills reclaiming the Arkenstone for him flashed before his eyes. It could be done, if he planned it right, Thorin was sure. He looked down with disgust at the hobbit before him, wanting to scream and smash him into a pulp, but he didn't. Instead he grabbed the small thing by the collar and swung him down from the wall, watching with rage how he was caught mid air by an elf and hit the ground without a scratch. 

“Farewell!” Bilbo then cried out before turning away from the mountain, and Thorin felt his heart clench hard in his chest. “We may meet again as friends!” 

“Be off!” Thorin called after him. “You ave mail upon you, which was made by my folk, and is too good for you! It cannot be pierced by arrows; but if you do not hasten, I will sting your miserable feet! So be swift!” 

What he was saying seemed to be having no affect on any of those listening to him and his rage bubbled even closer below the surface. He was just about to reach for a dagger when he felt Balin's hand on his shoulder, which stopped him, halfway through. He could hear the Man say something, but he couldn't understand the words. His head was spinning and his rage was brewing deep within his bones. He wanted to hit a wall with his bare fists, do more than just curse the hobbit's feet and the wizard's beard but Balin was there, gently patting his back as they headed back into the darkness of the mountain. It took hours before Thorin spoke again, and he didn't eat. He went to send a message for Dain, whom they had already asked to come to their aid. He then made his way back into the chambers of cold and gems, letting his fingertips run along the golden armor and the thousand upon thousand golden coins beneath his feet. He still felt the sting of betrayal bubble warm in his gut, but the sorrow of losing a companion was even more present now when he was alone on a mountain of gold. How he could ever have blamed Fili for betraying him, he could not understand. He knew that Fili would never do anything like this deliberately. Thorin had just forgotten what it truly felt like to be betrayed and beaten to the ground by someone he thought was a friend. He would never be able to forgive Bilbo for this, just as the others would never forgive Thorin for what he had done to the poor hobbit. At least the little one had food and warm fires now, he had made sure to give his friendship to the company up for at least a bit more than chain mail. Thorin should have known better than to trust him to begin with. He should have known better than to every think that he would be able to take what was his by right, when the last King under the Mountain had made it so very clear that Thorin was not worthy of his riches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! im so sorry for the late update, i've been fighting school but the battle is now won and hopefully i'll finish this story during the summer :) hope you stay with me!


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